


Seeing Double.

by doctorkaitlyn



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, Bottom Derek, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Complete, Explicit Sexual Content, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Lack of Communication, M/M, Mild Language Kink, No Hale Fire, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Resolved Communication Issues, Rimming, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Tapes, Specifically Polish, Stilinski Twins, Texting, Threesome - M/M/M, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-21 02:00:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 62,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1533503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorkaitlyn/pseuds/doctorkaitlyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek had always had a thing for libraries, even before he started working in one.  There was nothing like the feeling of having all the knowledge in the world at his fingertips, nothing like the quiet serenity that only books could bring.  </p><p>One day, that serenity was shattered by two young men, twins to be exact, sitting in the English Literature section and firing off rapid Polish at a completely inexcusable volume.  Derek told them to be quiet, like he'd done to dozens of other students, and that should have been the end of it.  </p><p>In reality, it was just the beginning.</p><p>or, that fic where Derek falls for both Stiles and Stuart (and the feeling is <i>definitely</i> mutual.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So we're all aware now: the endgame of this story is a threesome / consensual polyamorous relationship, which means twins will be doing stuff together (and with Derek!). So if that isn't a thing you're into (which is totally okay!), the back button might be your friend today. (:
> 
> Additionally, on the path to said relationship, there are some moments in this story where it may seem like boundaries between relationships are being crossed and where not everyone is aware of everything that is going on. I know that's vague but if that's also a thing you're not into or if it bothers you at any point, I totally understand if you use the exit button. (:
> 
> There are some Polish phrases used in this (and every other) chapter and thanks to StopDropAndHowl, the English translation will appear if you hover over the Polish with your mouse. The full glossary of phrases used in this chapter can also be found in the endnotes. (:

Derek had always had a thing for libraries. 

Growing up, he had always been surrounded by two things: family and books. Between his siblings (both biological and adopted) and his numerous aunts and uncles, the Hale household was always full of people and whenever another grandparent or cousin or vague relation came by, they were bound to have a book with them and they were just as bound to leave it behind when they left. The living room had quickly turned into a library and Derek had spent a good chunk of his teenage years in there, sitting on the floor, surrounded by stacks of musty, dogeared paperbacks from airports and reference texts thicker than his arms. Hell, there'd even been a few occasions where he'd fallen asleep there, head leaning against one of the shelves, passed out with a novel or a textbook open in his lap. 

(He'd tried to deny that for the longest time but then his oldest sister Laura had shown him the photographic evidence and he'd been reduced to glaring at her whenever she brought them out.) 

With his love for the library at his home, it only made sense that he ended up working in the library at the university where he was doing his master's in history. Most of the time, it didn't even feel like a job; even if he did have to put up with some of the more boring duties that came with the occupation (like reshelving books and answering stupid questions from freshmen and reshelving some _more_ books), the place felt like home. There was nothing like being surrounded by the distinctive smell of crisp paper, of flipping through the books, of having all the knowledge in the world at his fingertips. 

But there were some days where the library felt more like _his_ home; with the constant presence of the family, the Hale house had always been _loud_ and punctuated by rapid-fire conversation and on the second Tuesday of October, the university library was much the same. 

He was walking through the English Literature section of the library, carefully carrying a stack of books to be shelved in his arms, when he heard words being fired off as quick as bullets. Even though the section of the library wasn't supposed to be entirely silent, the conversation was still far too loud and so, adjusting the weight of the books in his arms, he ventured between the shelves, trying to pinpoint where the conversation was coming from. As he got closer, he realized the words weren't English; although his knack for languages wasn't as honed as he would have liked it to be, he was pretty sure that it was an Eastern European language. Polish, maybe. He exited the shelves into the common area between English and French Lit and immediately found the source of the commotion. 

There were two young men sitting around one of the low tables, which was covered in pieces of lined paper and pencils, both of them firing off Polish like it was going out of style. It took Derek all of two steps before he realized that the two were twins; identical twins at that, both of them with dark brown hair that was sticking up at the front. One of them was sprawled out in his padded chair like he owned the place, legs thrown over the armrest, back arched in a way that looked downright uncomfortable. The other one, who was wearing a pair of black, thick rimmed glasses, had his legs stretched out in front of him and was staring down at the massive textbook carefully perched in his lap, not even bothering to look up when he spoke. He was incessantly twiddling a pencil between his fingers and as he sat his pile of books down on a nearby table, Derek realized that the twin without glasses was chewing on the yellow cap of a highlighter, bouncing it off of his teeth as he yelled. 

“Excuse me?” Derek asked, really hoping that the two of them spoke English. 

“Co chcesz?” the twin without glasses snapped. He whipped his head around and Derek noticed that he had a smattering of tiny moles along the side of his jaw, continuing down underneath the collar of his red and blue plaid shirt, which definitely clashed with the maroon jeans he was wearing. 

“Stiles!” the other boy hissed, looking up from his textbook for the first time and shooting a vicious glare at his twin before he turned his gaze to Derek. 

“Ignore him,” he said, smiling slightly. “He's just mad that I got a better mark is all.” There was only the slightest trace of an accent clinging to his consonants and Derek had to admit, it gave his voice a rather interesting lilt. 

“He fucked his TA!” Stiles (what kind of name was that?) yelped indignantly, kicking his foot out so that his shoe just barely skimmed against his twin's arm. 

“Did not,” the twin with glasses said, but as soon as Stiles looked back down as his lap, thumbing at his phone with a huff, he caught Derek's eye and winked at him and Derek did _not_ let himself blush. 

“Look, just... quiet down a bit,” he sighed, picking his stack of books back up so that he had a distraction. “Otherwise I'll have to ask you to leave.” 

“Won't happen again,” the still-nameless twin said solemnly, shooting off a cockeyed salute. “Right, Stiles?” 

“Odpieprz się,” Stiles muttered and Derek didn't need to know a word of Polish to know that Stiles had just said something akin to _fuck off_. 

Admittedly, even though he could still hear them whenever he wandered near their table, the twins did quiet down substantially. When they left, Derek was back behind the front desk, checking something on the computer and when he glanced up, he made the mistake of catching the eyes of the twin with glasses. He visibly slowed his steps and even as Derek tried to rip his gaze away, he could tell that the young man was giving him the once-over, trailing from the stubble on his face to where the counter cut off the view of his legs. There was nothing subtle about the action and just before he reached the door, he winked again, the corner of his mouth furling into a smirk that looked like it promised all sorts of obscene things. 

And then, they were both mercifully gone and Derek let out a breath he didn't even know he'd been holding.

&.

Two days passed in rather uneventful fashion before Derek saw the twins again. This time, it was outside the borders of the library; he was on a break between two of his classes and was crossing campus to get lunch when he saw them sitting underneath one of the massive trees that dominated the lawn in front of the History building. Stiles (and seriously, that _had_ to be short for something) was leaning up against the trunk, hair pulled into unruly spikes, eyes intently focused on a thin book in his hand. His twin, on the other hand, was lying with his head resting on Stiles' outstretched calves, a woolen beanie covering his eyes, textbook abandoned beside him. They both seemed completely occupied and Derek was pretty sure that he could sneak by them. 

“Hey!”

No such luck. 

“You're the guy from the library!” When Derek turned back around, Stiles had dropped his book into his lap and was sitting up a little straighter. Based on his tone of voice alone, he seemed to be in a much better mood than when Derek had initially encountered them. 

“Yep,” Derek said, biting back a sigh as he crossed the grass. “That's me.” 

“Awesome. I just wanted to apologize for the other day. I was in a bad mood, if that wasn't obvious.” 

“It was a _little_ obvious,” Derek said and when Stiles slid over slightly (evoking a grumble from his brother), Derek sat down beside him, bracing his back against the thick tree trunk. “It's fine though. I've dealt with much worse, I assure you.” 

“Alright, so we're cool then. I'm Stiles, but I think you already knew that. The dude who seems to think sleeping on me is acceptable is Stuart.” 

“I don't see you trying to move me,” Stuart muttered from underneath his hat and the words had barely come out of his mouth before Stiles quickly drew his legs back up, making his twin's head smack off the grass. Stuart muttered _fuck_ and smacked Stiles' knee before he sat up, brushing grass out of his disheveled hair and yanking his beanie down onto his head.

“What time is it?” he asked through a yawn, stretching his long arms above his head. The action made his gray t-shirt slide up his torso and hard as he tried to look away, Derek couldn't help but grab a quick glimpse at the small of Stuart's back before his shirt dropped back down. 

“Just after one,” Stiles replied, stretching his legs back out. 

“Shit!” Stuart sprang to his feet and scooped up his backpack, glasses knocked slightly askew. “I've got an appointment with our TA.”

“Try not to fuck him again!” Stiles yelled at his twin's rapidly retreating back but when he turned back to Derek, he was smiling slightly, a smile that was eons away from the smirk Stuart had shot Derek when he'd left the library. 

“Sorry man, I didn't catch your name yet,” he said. His voice had less of an accent than his twin's but his tongue still caught a little on his r's and for a moment, Derek was too focused on that fact to remember his own name. 

“Derek,” he finally managed to say, sticking his hand out. The palm that met his was soft and without callouses and Derek had no doubt that Stiles' fingers would feel fantastic dragging over his skin. He quickly shoved that thought back to the recesses of his mind and dropped his hand back into his lap, feeling tendrils of awkwardness starting to creep into the moment. 

“What are you reading?” he asked, unwilling to simply leave so soon. 

“It's for a history project,” Stiles said, picking it up and dropping it squarely in Derek's lap. “I'm not sure how I feel about it yet.” 

“I'm a history student,” Derek said offhandedly, flipping the book over so he could read the blurb on the back. It sounded vaguely familiar, like he'd read it in first year or something. 

“Really? That's awesome!” Stiles replied and based on his sheer tone of voice, it sounded like he actually meant it. “So are you in your last year or something?” 

“I just started my master's in September, actually.” He gave the book back to Stiles, whose fingers were tapping out a staccato rhythm against his knees. “If you tell me what your project is about, I can probably recommend you some more books.”

Although Derek had intended to get up and get food once he'd recommended some more sources for Stiles, the conversation simply didn't end there. After he'd written down every single source Derek had given him, scrawling the titles down in spindly handwriting, they'd effortlessly moved on to other topics. Stiles talked with his hands, his fingers flying and diving through the air and by the time Derek realized that he was going to be late for class, he had discovered that there were no less than seven moles dotting the pale skin of Stiles' jaw and the column of his neck. 

At least, that was on the right side. He'd have to look at the left side later.

&. 

Even though he only worked in the library three days a week, it seemed that the twins were there every single shift he worked, always managing to secure the same table in between the English and French Literature sections. When he caught glimpses of them between the shelves, they always seemed to be legitimately studying. Stiles was always sprawled out like an octopus, lanky legs flopped over the armrest of the chair, his supplies strewn across his lap and the table and the floor. Stuart was usually slightly more organized, laptop or notebook balanced on his knees but he was constantly pushing his glasses back up his face and whenever he wasn't wearing his trademark beanie, his hair was a tousled mop, sticking up in all sorts of directions. 

Yet whenever Derek walked by, no matter how hard he tried to be quiet, they'd both, without fail, look up from their respective work and acknowledge him in some way. Some days, he got nothing more than a quick wave and a smile/smirk (depending on which twin he was looking at) but most of the time, they tried their absolute best to lure him into a conversation.

Usually, they succeeded, but only because Derek never really tried to resist. 

It was pretty damn clear that his crush on the twins was growing more with each day that passed. Between the looks Stuart shot him when Stiles wasn't paying attention (looks that seemed taken right out of porn, not that Derek was complaining) and the goofy innuendos Stiles reeled off with a comical wiggle of his eyebrows, it was kind of impossible _not_ to like them, even if sometimes they got in fights and started hollering at each other in the middle of the library.

After two more of those incidents, Derek made a quick internet search. The next time the twins started up (something they apparently only did on his shift, according to his co-workers), he strode across the library to their table and cleared his throat so that they'd look at him. 

“Stiles, Stuart, _cicho bądźcie._ ” Both of them shut up immediately and while Stiles' mouth was flapping soundlessly, like he'd completely forgotten how to talk, Stuart was simply staring at him, lips slightly agape, the very definition of stunned silence. After only a few moments however, his face changed into something completely different and he settled back into his chair, lips drawn back into a smirk. 

“Przepraszam,” Stuart replied and although the word was completely unfamiliar, Derek was more focused on the way Stuart's tongue was just brushing against his bottom lip, making the skin gleam. 

“That means I'm sorry,” Stiles said quietly and Derek could see his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. “When did you-”

“Figured it would come in handy,” Derek interrupted, smiling slightly before he turned on his heel and took off. He could feel warmth overtaking his face, regardless of how hard he tried to suppress it. He quickly glanced back over his shoulder once, to see that the twins had started speaking again. They were leaning over the edge of their chairs, foreheads almost touching, rapidly whispering to each other and that just brought up a whole other garrison of images in Derek's brain, images that he quickly forced back out of his head.

&.

“I've got a problem.”

Derek was sitting in one of the rickety plastic chairs on his balcony, head tilted back, eyes half-open. He wanted to close them all the way but every time he did that, one (or both) of the Stilinski twins came into his mind and even though they were only winking or smirking or smiling at him in these mental images, the images were still enough to make his dick harden and he really didn't want to have to deal with an erection when his adopted siblings were sitting on the balcony beside him. 

“You and everyone else,” his sister Erica said and Derek could just tell from the tone that she was rolling her eyes skywards as she flicked through one of her criminology textbooks. “You wanna talk about it?” 

“Not really,” Derek groaned but based on how Erica slammed her book shut with a loud _thud_ , her words hadn't actually been a question. 

“It's... a guy,” he muttered, grinding the heels of his hands into his eyes and unleashing an explosion of color behind his eyelids. “There's two of them actually.”

“You've got the hots for two guys at once?” she asked and he nodded hopelessly. “Do they like you too?” Derek thought about it for a few moments, even though his instincts _screamed_ yes. After all, even though both of the twins seemed naturally flirtatious, Derek didn't think that he'd imagined the meaning of the heated looks Stuart had been giving him and he definitely hadn't imagined the broad smiles Stiles sent in his direction almost every time he was around. 

“Yeah, pretty sure,” he sighed and if anything, that realization made the whole situation worse. Even if both of them did like him, he couldn't be with both of them at the same time and picking between them? That was an option that seemed like pure torture. No matter which one he picked, Derek knew he would have regrets. 

Sure, there were worse problems he could have been facing, but it still fucking sucked. 

“Just date both of them,” his younger brother Isaac said, exhaling his words through a cloud of acrid smoke. Derek wasn't much one for drugs but before his family had adopted Isaac, he'd lived in a very abusive home. Derek still didn't know most of the details of what he went through (wasn't really sure if he wanted to know, to be completely honest) and the weed seemed to lessen the frequency of the debilitating panic attacks that occasionally struck him. “Or screw them both. It's not that hard, Derek.” 

“What would you know about it?” Derek snapped but before he could apologize for the undue harshness of his tone, Isaac just shrugged and exhaled another puff of smoke from his nostrils. 

“I've done it before,” he said casually, brushing ashes off of his sweatshirt. “Slept with two people, I mean. At the same time.”

“They probably weren't related,” Derek muttered, expecting Erica to leap all over his words but she had already latched on to what Isaac had said, literally jumping out of her chair and sitting beside Isaac on the ratty love seat that was designated for his smoking. 

“Who'd you sleep with?” she asked, fixing Isaac with an unwavering stare. 

“Just some dude and his girlfriend.” Derek could see Isaac's cheeks starting to flush red and he glanced down in his lap, wiping more ash off of his jeans. There was more to the story, that much was clear and although Derek would have let it slide, Erica wasn't as easily dissuaded. She simply sat there and continued to stare at Isaac until he finally sighed and flicked the stub of his joint over the edge of the balcony. 

“Fine, it was McCall and his girlfriend,” he muttered and although the names meant absolutely nothing to Derek, Erica squealed and madly started ruffling Isaac's already disheveled mop of curls. 

“The captain of the lacrosse team _and_ the captain of the archery team? I'm proud of you baby bro!” 

Derek just groaned again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer: I do not know Polish. But I tried to find the most accurate translation possible; if any of you lovely readers speak the language and have a better translation, please let me know.
> 
> Co chcesz = what do you want?  
> Odpieprz się = fuck off.  
> Cicho bądźcie = be quiet.  
> Przepraszam = sorry.
> 
> as always, I can be found on [tumblr.](http://banshee-cheekbones.tumblr.com/) :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to take a moment to thank everyone who has read/commented/kudos/subscribed so far! the response to this has been so amazing and you're all awesome! as always, the Polish translations can be found by hovering over the words and also in the end notes of the chapter. (:
> 
> and now, let the first smutty chapter commence!

That Friday, things took a turn; whether it was for better or for worse, Derek didn't really know.

Originally, he hadn't been supposed to work, but apparently one of his co-workers had strep throat (an excuse he didn't believe for a second) and asked him to take their late shift. Truthfully, he didn't really mind; he always needed the money and by the time the library closed at two in the morning, the place was usually almost completely empty. It was _quiet_ and it gave him a little extra time where he could do some work of his own. 

Or at least, that was what usually happened. 

By one o'clock, most of the library had emptied out, aside from a few grad students working in the private cubicles on the top floor and some freshmen who looked like they were running off of energy drink fumes. Remarkably, there was no sign of the Stilinski twins and Derek still wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. Sure, they may have made his shifts a little more exciting but the more he saw them, the more his brain bombarded him with inappropriate mental images that were _not_ conducive to being a good employee. 

One of his co-workers was manning the front desk and there were enough books on the returns cart to justify a trip around the library. One of them was a thick treatise on astrophysics and its proper spot was in the furthest corner of the third floor of the building. There were no study corrals in that section and hardly anybody touched the books on a busy day so Derek wasn't surprised to find the shelves apparently empty. The only sounds were his footsteps and the quiet squeaking of the cart as he pushed it in front of him. He replaced the book in its proper spot, noted the thick amount of dust that had settled on the surrounding shelves and glanced down at his watch. It was already ten after one and he still had quite a few books to reshelf. He had a feeling he would be able to drag that job out for a good twenty minutes, maybe even half an hour if he-

“Hey Derek.”

Derek barely managed to hold back the curse word that threatened to jolt out of his mouth, but he couldn't stop himself from jumping as he spun around. He hadn't heard any footsteps but Stuart was still standing in front of him, leaning against the opposite shelf in a way that looked almost _too_ casual. He was wearing a black cardigan with the sleeves rolled up, dark jeans and his ever-present beanie and despite the late (or early) hour, he looked wide awake. His fingers were tapping against the shelf he was leaning against, the noise seeming loud as thunder in the otherwise silent section of the library and Derek felt like his stomach had woven itself into a tight knot. 

“Jesus Stuart, you scared the hell of me,” he muttered, trying to keep his voice level. “What are you doing here? Studying with Stiles?” 

“Nope. He was on the couch last time I checked, playing Super Smash Bros with his friend. I don't think he even noticed I was leaving.” Stuart was smirking at him and as Derek swallowed over the lump in his throat, Stuart's tongue flicked out and ran over his bottom lip. 

“Well, is there something I can help you with?” Derek asked, forcing his gaze away from Stuart's all-too-tempting mouth. “I don't know much about astrophysics but-”

“Derek, I'm not here to take out a book,” Stuart interrupted. The florescent lighting made his eyes look the shade of old whiskey and when Derek averted his own eyes, lest he be completely screwed, they dropped down to Stuart's exposed forearms, which he realized weren't nearly as thin as he'd thought. Rather, they were nicely defined with muscle and covered in thick black hair. 

He was officially done for. 

“Then what are you here for?” he asked, one hand wrapped around the handle of the cart, which was still loaded with books. He had an idea where things were going, he wasn't stupid, and he knew that he should have collected himself calmly and left before things reached that inevitable point. Merely making out in the library was a bad idea, even if there were no cameras nearby that he knew of. But he had a feeling Stuart wasn't just after a quick makeout session; the glimmer in his eyes and the way he was gnawing on his lip seemed to indicate that he had more devious plans. _That_ just shouted disaster and Derek knew he needed to walk away, _now_ , because if he didn't move, he was going to do something that could all too easily cost him his job. 

He didn't move. 

“Well, I actually came here to kiss you,” Stuart said quietly, moving away from the shelf. Two steps later, he was standing toe to toe to Derek, so close that Derek could see that there was a chip of black paint missing from the corner of his thick-rimmed glasses. “You gonna let me do that?” 

All he had to do was take a step in either direction. One step and he was sure that the moment would end, that he would be able to leave the shelves and get back to his job. But his feet remained firmly planted on the carpet and instead, he nodded, hand slipping off the handle of the cart and settling on the shelf that he was leaning up against. 

“Go ahead."

“Good.” With that, Stuart pressed into his space and did exactly what he'd said he'd do. His actions were the furthest thing from tentative; as soon as his lips touched Derek's, he was tilting his head and slotting their noses together, kissing him deeply, like they'd been doing it for years. One of his hands settled on Derek's waist while the other one slid around his back, pressing against the knobs of his spine. Derek gave as good as he got; he dragged his tongue over Stuart's bottom lip, slipping it into his warm mouth. He fisted his fingers into the younger man's dark hair, pushing his hat off onto the ground. His other hand was resting on Stuart's lower back, pulling him as close as possible. The guy was one hell of a kisser and by the time he trailed away to nip at Derek's jaw, Derek could already feel his own cock straining against the zipper of his pants. Evidently, Stuart was well aware of it as well, judging by the way he chuckled and deliberately shifted his hips. 

“I could lose my job if we get caught,” Derek said, biting back a groan as Stuart rolled his hips again. 

“No one is gonna find out,” he murmured, his voice sinfully low as he pressed a bruising kiss to the hollow underneath Derek's ear. “Obiecuję. Zaufaj mi, Derek.” He pressed his body closer and this time, Derek could feel Stuart's cock pressing against his thigh when he shifted, straining against the constraints of his tight jeans. Derek didn't know why he believed Stuart so easily, why he was so willing to trust in words that he didn't even understand. Maybe it was the way Stuart's tongue so skillfully twisted over both the words and over Derek's mouth. Whatever it was, he felt the last miniscule amount of self-control he possessed slip away and he nodded, trying to ignore the dull throb as the shelf dug into his back above his waist. 

“Okay,” he groaned, sliding his hand underneath Stuart's cardigan and t-shirt so he could run his fingertips over the soft skin of the small of his back. “Okay, Stuart.” 

“Jesteś niesamowity,” Stuart said against his jaw, his thumb gliding along the line Derek's hipbone and even though Derek had no idea at all what Stuart had said, he still groaned and pulled Stuart into another kiss. He wanted to return some of the incredible attention he was receiving but Stuart had effectively pinned him with his hips and whenever Derek tried to arch away from the shelf, he just ended up meeting with friction that made him press his teeth into his lip. As much as he wanted the moment to last forever, every second that ticked by was another second where they could get caught so while Stuart pressed his teeth to the hard line of his clavicle through his shirt, Derek reached down and palmed at where Stuart's cock was pressing against his zipper. The younger man moaned quietly and bit down on Derek's shoulder as his nimble fingers popped open the button on Derek's pants. The noise of his zipper being dragged down seemed to echo in the air and Derek hurried to return the favor on Stuart's absurdly tight pants. 

“We gotta be quick,” Derek groaned, thankful that he was wearing one of the loosest pairs of jeans he owned. “And _quiet_ ,” he hissed as an afterthought. 

“I'll try my best,” Stuart said simply. He raised his hand to his mouth and licked a broad stripe up his palm and Derek just barely managed to suck in a breath before that slick hand was sliding into his pants and wrapping around his cock with the perfect amount of pressure. It took a few moments before Derek remembered to return the motion and the instant his fingers brushed over the head of Stuart's cock, Stuart cursed (in English) and captured Derek's mouth in another bruising kiss. 

The man was talented, there was no denying that; although Derek's conception of time was rather skewed, it couldn't have been longer than ten minutes before he could feel himself teetering on the edge. His lips were swollen and Stuart's cheeks and neck were flushed red from stubble burn and Derek was trying his best to keep the strokes of his own hand at a reasonably quick pace. Based on the way that Stuart was licking at his mouth and his jaw and groaning in the back of his throat, he was doing more than a passable job and that thought made heat rapidly spread through his entire body. 

“I'm gonna come,” Derek managed to say, twisting his wrist, pressing his hips upwards into the warm circle of Stuart's hand. 

“Good,” Stuart panted in return, his breath ghosting over Derek's lips. “'Cause so am I.” The words had barely fallen from the younger man's lips before his hips were stuttering against Derek's palm and Derek's fingers were dripping with warm liquid. Even with his face pressed against Derek's shoulder, Derek heard the way Stuart's voice cracked when he gasped _fuck_ and that little word was the last thing Derek needed to tip over the edge himself. His mouth dropped open but thankfully, he couldn't suck in enough breath to make a sound, because he was pretty sure he wouldn't have been able to keep any noises he made at a reasonable volume. When his lungs finally started to work again, he shut his eyes and leaned his head back against the shelf, chest heaving. It was, by far, the best orgasm he'd had in a very long time and he wasn't quite sure if his legs would support him if he stepped away from the bookshelf. 

Belatedly, he also realized that he wasn't quite sure how they were supposed to clean their hands off. There were no tissues on the book cart or in his pockets and although Derek knew that many of the volumes he was surrounded by hadn't been taken out in years, there were some lines he just couldn't cross, no matter how desperate he was.

“Stuart, do you-”

“Already on it.” Stuart's face was still flushed red and there were beads of sweat clinging to his hairline and as he carefully slid his cardigan off of his shoulders, he looked Derek straight in the eye and winked. There was not an ounce of shame on his expression, not even as he used the sleeve of his sweater to clean off both of their hands and their dicks. Once that was done, he zipped Derek's jeans back up and pressed a hard kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

“Maybe next time, I'll lick your hand clean,” he murmured, his eyes flicking up underneath his glasses to meet with Derek's. “Sound good?” Derek's brain was still short-circuiting, both from his orgasm and from the absolutely fucking amazing mental image Stuart had provided him with, so he simply nodded and smoothed a hand down the rumpled front of Stuart's t-shirt.

“Good,” he said, pressing another lingering kiss to Derek's mouth, parting with a brief flick of his tongue against Derek's lips. “See you later Derek.” With that, he left, holding his sweater over his shoulder as he turned the corner. The sound of his footsteps quickly faded and Derek was left with the cart of books and the lingering smell of sex in the air. He took another deep breath and glanced down at his watch, sure that he still had plenty of time to finish the task he'd been in the midst of. 

Instead, he discovered that it was ten minutes to two in the morning and although Derek knew he should have panicked, he simply shrugged and started wheeling the cart back towards the elevator. He probably could have gotten some of the books put away but frankly, he wanted to be headed home as soon as possible. 

Plus, there was the fact that, although Stuart had wiped the cum off of Derek's hands, his fingers were still far from clean and he really didn't want to touch any of the library books with his hands until he had washed them properly. 

By the time he managed to get back to the apartment, it was closer to three than two. The lights were all off but the television was still on, bathing the living room walls in a flickering blue glow. Erica was sprawled out on the couch in her pajamas, her head resting in her boyfriend Boyd's lap. Derek liked Boyd; he was a big man with huge arms who spoke few words and since they'd started dating in high school, his stoic nature had been a nice contrast to Erica's more manic side. 

“How was work?” she asked, muttering something rude when he turned on the light in the hallway. 

“It was fine,” he said, keeping his words as even and neutral as possible, to no avail. The couch squeaked as she sat up and she rested her chin on the back of it, eyes remarkably alert for the time of night. 

“Did you get laid?” 

“No,” he replied, trying to busy himself with taking his boots off so that he wouldn't have to see the eyebrow she was no doubt arching at him. While Derek had grown out of some of his high school mannerisms, Erica had held onto hers and showed no signs of letting them go anytime soon. 

“Derek, quit lying, you're even worse at it than Boyd,” she said, nudging Boyd with her elbow. 

“I don't lie,” Boyd said, his eyes still fixed on the television even as he twirled a lock of Erica's long blonde hair around his fingers. 

“That's because there's no point, I always catch you.” Erica leaned over to pull Boyd into a chaste kiss, which quickly evolved into something a little more passionate and just as Erica's head disappeared from the back of the couch, Derek beat a quick retreat to his bedroom. 

He was too tired to think of much before he fell asleep but all of the half-formed, barely coherent thoughts he did have revolved around Stuart and Stiles.

&. 

Thankfully, Derek was too busy the rest of the weekend to think about anything that didn't revolve around schoolwork. He'd been neglecting his master's thesis in the last few weeks and there was a small stack of books and course readers beside his bed that he needed to get caught up on so Saturday and Sunday were both a haze of highlighted notes and rapid-fire typing. He hardly saw Isaac or Erica until Sunday evening, when his brain was officially burnt out and he wanted nothing more to sit in front of the television for a bit and watch a crappy movie and eat some delicious sushi from the Japanese restaurant just down the street. 

He'd just gripped his chopsticks between his fingers when Erica popped out of her bedroom and sat down beside him, staring at him expectantly.

“So who'd you sleep with?” 

By the time she finally left him alone, the crappy movie was halfway over and a good portion of his sushi had mysteriously vanished, even though he hadn't eaten a single piece.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obiecuję = I promise.  
> Zaufaj mi = Trust me  
> Jesteś niesamowity = You're incredible.
> 
> As always, if any of you readers have a better translation, please let me know. xo.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you lovely readers enjoy this chapter! xo.
> 
> PS: a lovely reader has also volunteered their services for assisting me with the Polish used in this story, so hoorah for that! (:

Although he did have two afternoon classes, Derek wasn't scheduled to work Monday and for that, he was a little bit thankful. Truth be told, he hadn't really thought much about the incident with Stuart; he'd been too busy to. But now, it was all that occupied his brain and his thoughts were so jumbled together that he could hardly focus on the lecture he was supposed to be paying attention to. Even though he'd said yes to Stuart and had no second thoughts about it, his feelings about Stiles certainly hadn't lessened; if anything, they seemed to have gotten stronger. He wasn't quite sure how that worked but all he knew was that he was thankful to have a day where he could gather his thoughts before he had to return to work and almost inevitably see both of the twins. 

At least, that's what he thought before Stiles literally ran into him in the hallway. Derek had been stooping over to get a drink from one of the water fountains just outside his classroom when suddenly, there was someone crashing into him and nearly knocking him onto his ass. Thankfully, growing up with so many siblings had made it so that his sense of balance was fairly well-developed so while he only smacked into the wall, Stiles was the one who ended up on the floor, muttering something about fresh wax. 

“Can we just pretend you didn't see that?” he asked, grabbing the hand Derek had proffered and pulling himself up, backpack hanging from one shoulder. “Because I assure you, it was supposed to be way smoother and now I feel like a jackass.” 

“Consider it forgotten,” Derek said, unable to stop himself from smiling. “But why were you trying to be smooth anyways?” 

“Well, I was...” Stiles trailed off and even though the overhead lighting was fairly dim, Derek was pretty sure that the younger man was blushing. He rubbed the side of his neck and when he turned his head slightly, Derek quickly counted a dozen moles trailing down the left side of Stiles' jaw and throat. 

“Y'know what, screw it, I'm just gonna spit it out,” he said. “Derek, did you wanna go get coffee sometime? Like, as a date?” 

It was certainly an unexpected turn to the day and Derek realized that his surprise must have been visible on his face when Stiles held his hands up, palms out and took a step backwards. He was smiling but it didn't even come close to reaching his eyes. 

“Or not, that's cool,” he said. “We can forget that happened too.”

“But I don't want to forget that,” Derek blurted, stepping forward and closing the gap between them that Stiles had made. “Coffee sounds great, Stiles, really. Did you have a day in mind?” 

“Actually, I hadn't thought that far ahead.” Stiles' fake smile had been replaced by an obviously real one and it was light years away from his twin's smirk. Nonetheless, it was still doing a marvelous job of making Derek's face feel warm, like someone had suddenly cranked up the temperature in the building. “I was just kinda hoping you weren't gonna shut me down or rip my throat out with your teeth.”

“Why would I do that?” Derek asked, completely and genuinely confused. Sure, maybe he hadn't been as forthcoming with his interest as the twins both had and sure, he _may_ have glared at them a few times when they were being way too damn loud but still, he didn't think he'd been _that_ forceful about it. 

“Derek, your default facial expression is frowning,” Stiles said. “Bordering on glowering, actually. Which is kind of cool, adds to the whole broody thing but-” 

“Wait, now I'm _broody_?”

“It's not a bad thing-”

“Well, how about this?” Derek asked, feeling an odd wave of confidence come over him. Flirting wasn't something that had ever really come natural to him but oddly enough, the fact that Stiles was so nervous actually made him feel a little bit better about himself. Sure, Stuart had known exactly what he was doing but that had just been sex; the fact that Stiles could hardly keep his words straight just trying to ask him on a date? 

Well, it was a little bit of an ego boost, no doubt about it.

“If you're not busy tonight, I will prove to you that I'm not broody. Sound like a plan?” 

“Yes, yeah, absolutely,” Stiles said, words falling out of his mouth in a jumble. “You just tell me the time and the place and I will be there.”

There was a fairly nice coffee shop on campus, located in the basement of the visual arts building and while the price of the drinks was a little on the steep side, it was still cheaper than Starbucks and the environment was a lot nicer and more laidback. By the time Stiles left with Derek's phone number scrawled across his palm in black pen (“I'll text you in case I get lost”), Derek was already ten minutes late for class and he received a withering glare from his professor when he slid through the doors at the back of the lecture hall. Ordinarily, he would have shot back a glare of his own (or, more likely, wouldn't have been late for class in the first place), but he just couldn't be bothered by it because he had a date, an actual _date_ , with Stiles. 

Of course, there was still the whole issue of what had happened with Stuart. Based on the remark he had made, he had obviously intended for their thing to not just be a one-time occurrence and truth be told, just thinking about the possibility kind of made Derek zone out. And while he did feel a little bad that Stiles (apparently) had no idea what had happened, Derek didn't think there was much of a point in worrying about it, at least not at the moment. 

After all, although his instincts told him otherwise, there was always a chance that his date with Stiles would end up being horrible and they'd never speak again.

&.

The rest of the class went by fairly quickly. He had an hour and a half to kill before he was due to meet Stiles at the coffee shop and he figured that he could use the time to put a little extra effort towards his appearance. When he got back to his apartment, Erica and Isaac were nowhere to be found and while he was rummaging through his closet for a slightly nicer shirt than the faded henley he was wearing, he called his older sister, Laura. 

“Derek!” she yelled as she picked up and he winced, holding his phone away from his ear. He adored his sister, he really did, but her concept of volume control was non-existent. In the background behind her, he could hear who he assumed to be his niece and nephew shrieking with what sounded like delight at the top of their lungs. 

“What are they screaming about?” he asked. 

“They got a new swing set today and they're going crazy over it, they're fine. What are you up to? Keeping the younger ones in line?”

“Trying my best,” he said, yanking a black button-down off of a hanger and tossing it onto the bed. “I just wanted to ask you something.” 

“I'm all ears.” 

“Do I look like I would rip someone's throat out with my teeth?” The words had sounded only a little absurd when he'd heard them in his own head but he only realized just how moronic they were once they were past his tongue. “Wait, ignore that-”

Too late. Peals of laughter were coming from Laura's end of the line, blocking out the sound of her little ones shrieking in the background. Calling Laura had _definitely_ a bad idea, and he fully blamed the happiness high he was riding for his bad decision. 

“Derek, do you remember those religious people who used to come to the house when we were younger?” she wheezed, words occasionally getting interrupted by more giggles. “And you were always the one who answered the door? They stopped coming around because they were afraid you were gonna kill them!” 

“Oh,” Derek said. “I didn't know that.” 

“I hope that answers your question,” she said, snorting once before her laughing finally stopped. “Why are you asking me this?” 

Derek hung up.

&.

Aside from changing his clothes, he didn't waste too much time in getting ready and he had just sat down in one of the padded booths that lined the wall of the cafe when his phone buzzed in his pocket with a new text. 

**Stiles, 7:03PM:** dude it's like freaking catacombs down here I think i'm lost 

_Derek Hale, 7:03PM:_ what's the nearest room you see?

 **Stiles, 7:04PM:** arts 004. 

Derek hardly had time to roll his eyes (Stiles was literally outside the door to the place) before another text rolled in. 

**Stiles, 7:05PM:** oh wait. I see you! 

Just as Derek finished reading the text, Stiles slid into the booth across from him, still wearing the same outfit from earlier, hair considerably more rumpled. The sleeves of his blue shirt were pushed up to his elbows and his arms were even more muscled than Stuart's. Derek quickly shoved that thought out of his head because even if they shared identical features, deliberately thinking about Stuart was just bound to end in disaster and he really didn't want to happen, especially in the first minute of their date. 

“Sorry,” Stiles huffed, shrugging his backpack off. “I came right from class. You look nice, by the way. _Really_ nice.” 

“Thanks,” Derek replied, trying his best not to show just how much the simple compliment had affected him. “You do too. Even your hair.” He'd meant the comment as a joke but it sounded more like an insult and he wanted to kick himself. Thankfully, Stiles simply shrugged and smoothed his hair down with his hands, to minimal effect. 

“Yeah, I tend to run my hands through it a lot when I'm stressed and class is driving me nuts.” 

“If you've got work to do or something, we can do this-”

“Derek, shut up,” Stiles said firmly. His hand had shot across the table and was closed around Derek's wrist. “Sorry, I didn't mean that. But I _really_ wanna do this. I promise.” His thumb dragged over the back of Derek's hand and before Derek could stop himself, he moved his hand and caught Stiles' fingers just before they retreated to the other side of the table. His hands were remarkably soft and his fingers were long and Derek had no doubt that they could do absolutely amazing things. 

“Okay,” Derek said, squeezing Stiles' hand once before he let go. “Drinks are on me. What do you want?”

&.

One of the things Derek had always hated about dates was small talk, the phrases you were obligated to say that no one really cared about. However, with Stiles, he hadn't felt any of that awkwardness, not even at the get-go. As soon as he'd returned with their drinks (the one Stiles had requested was some concoction Derek had never heard of and the amount of sugar in it seemed absolutely terrifying), Stiles had launched off into a conversation about the classes he was taking that semester. Him and Stuart were both history majors with minors in film theory and although Derek couldn't help but arch his eyebrow at the unusual combination, by the time Stiles finished his spiel, he'd managed to convince Derek that the combination actually made sense. 

He also confirmed Derek's suspicions about his name: it was a shortened version of his last name (Stilinski) and he had followed that up by saying that his real name was difficult to pronounce even for those who spoke Polish and that if he said it aloud, he would have to kill Derek so that no one else would ever know.

Even with the casual death threats, it was still a great date. Derek didn't feel pressured at all, didn't feel the overwhelming awkwardness that usually hovered on his shoulders whenever he tried to do the whole dating thing. He felt completely comfortable and the longer he sat in the booth opposite the nineteen year old who kept making atrocious puns and groan-worthy sexual innuendos, the more he relaxed. He even splurged on a second round of drinks and this time, Stiles got something that was topped with an absurd amount of whipped cream. 

“So, we watched this Australian movie in World Cinema the other day,” he said, effortlessly segueing out of a conversation about which Star Wars film was the best, “and it had Eric Bana in it and did you know the dude can actually act? Like, _actually_ act?” 

What Derek wanted to respond with was “who's Eric Bana?” What came out instead was a set of stuttered syllables that quickly died off. Some of the cream from Stiles' drink was clinging to the corner of his mouth and he appeared completely oblivious to its existence. Derek wanted to lean across the table and pull Stiles forward by the collar of his shirt, wanted to lick the foam away before licking his way into Stiles' mouth. But although the environment of the cafe was pretty laid-back, it wasn't quite _that_ permissive and being the center of attention didn't exactly sound like Derek's idea of fun. 

So instead, while Stiles continued to list the merits and faults of the film, Derek reached across the table and wiped the smear of cream away. Stiles stopped mid-word to stare at him and although Derek was worried he had overstepped a boundary (despite the fact that Stiles had been deliberately nudging him with his foot for the past two hours), he couldn't see a speck of repulsion or even confusion in his expression. Instead, with his lips parted and his pupils blown, he looked the very epitome of lust. 

That gave Derek the confidence he needed to go one step further and he sucked the cream off his own thumb. It tasted far too sweet for his liking but the audible stutter in Stiles' breathing was more than enough to make up for the taste. 

“That... that is something you could do again,” he slowly said. “Anytime you want.” 

“Still think I'm broody?” Derek asked, unable to resist the opportunity. Stiles exhaled slowly and ran his tongue over his bottom lip quickly, the mannerism identical to Stuart's and Jesus, for all the facade he was trying so hard to put up, Derek was gone. He was _so_ gone, on both of them. 

“Nope, I just think you're a bastard,” Stiles said without a shred of malice in his voice. His foot bumped against Derek's calf again but this time, he didn't move it. It stayed there, occasionally shifting to rub against the rough denim, even as they fell back into conversation that was slightly less charged with tension. 

By the time they exited the building just after ten, the night had grown dark and cooler. There were still a few students bustling past but the walkways were still mostly empty as far as the eye could see. 

“Did you wanna walk me back?” Stiles asked, fingers fiddling with the straps on his backpack. “I mean, if it's inconvenient or if you wanna go home, you don't have to-” 

“Lead the way,” Derek interrupted, zipping his leather jacket up higher. He'd assumed that Stiles and Stuart lived in the dorms but instead, Stiles started leading him away from the center of campus. Although they weren't holding hands, they were walking close enough for their arms to brush every few steps and although he was trying to pay attention to where he was walking and to what Stiles was saying, Derek could have sworn that Stiles' fingers had brushed against the inside of his wrist on more than a few occasions. 

After ten minutes of walking, Stiles stopped in front of a tall, narrow, brick walled house. There was a rickety black set of stairs leading up to the second and third floors and while the whole thing possessed the vague sort of dilapidation that most of the off-campus student housing did, there was no trash or couches sitting on the front lawn and despite the relatively early hour, most of the lights in the building were off. 

“So, this is Casa Stilinski,” Stiles said, holding his arms out like he was gesturing to something as grand as the Titanic. “Or at least, the third floor is. It's not much, but it's fairly cheap and it's got hot water so, can't complain too much.” Derek nodded because once he'd given the house a cursory glance, there were far more important things to look at. Specifically, Stiles, who was still standing beside him, so close that Derek could feel the body heat he was giving off. 

He wanted to kiss him, and as soon as Stiles turned his head away from the house, lips parting like he had something else to say, Derek leaned in and did just that. Stiles gasped slightly and for a fraction of a moment, his mouth remained slack. But then, he shrugged his backpack off his shoulders and turned so that he could wrap his arms around Derek's neck, pulling them closer together. Derek wound his own around Stiles' back, fingers clutching the fabric of his loose shirt, putting more pressure behind his mouth. Even though it was a fairly chaste kiss, all things considered, Derek could still hear a quiet moan falling from Stiles' lips when he pulled away.

“Is this okay?” Derek asked, bumping his nose against Stiles'. “Was _that_ okay?” 

“God Derek, _so_ okay,” Stiles grinned, surging forward and pressing his mouth against Derek's again. For a few moments, things were a bit of a blur; Derek wasn't quite sure how they managed it without stumbling or breaking apart but they moved so that they were out of the driveway and were instead relatively hidden in the shadows. Stiles' back was pressed up against the rickety stairs and although Derek knew it couldn't have been a very comfortable position (he was trying very hard not to remember the feeling of a bookshelf pressing into his back), Stiles showed no signs of wanting to move. His nimble fingers had unzipped Derek's jacket and he was smoothing his hands down Derek's chest. Even through the dual layers of his button-up and the shirt underneath it, Derek could feel the blunt drag of Stiles' fingers and the thought of what they would feel like against his bare skin practically made his head swim. 

While they were both almost absurdly good at kissing, Stiles was _so_ different from his twin. Stuart had been meticulous, practiced, doing everything like he'd been doing it for years (and for all Derek knew, maybe he had been). What Stiles lacked in method, he more than made up for in fervor. He was a whirlwind of lips and tongue and rolling hips and Derek was trying so hard to resist grinding down against one of Stiles' thighs, where it was pressed between his legs.

And then he started talking again. 

“Jesus Christ Derek,” he groaned as Derek dragged his teeth along the smooth skin underneath his ear, “ _Jezus_, do you have any idea what I wanna do to you?” Derek was glad that he had his mouth pressed against Stiles' throat, because he was pretty sure that the moan rumbling in his throat would have been loud enough to alert Stiles' neighbors to what was going on. “God, I...” Stiles trailed off for a moment, his fingers dragging along Derek's hips and when he started murmuring again, it was in full Polish, words rushing into each other, punctuated by gasps. 

Derek had to stop, or he was going to come in his pants like a teenager. 

“Stiles,” he groaned, repeating the man's name in a tone far too similar to a whine when Stiles continued to roll his hips forward in a way that should have been illegal. “We gotta... need to stop.” 

“Hmm?” 

“I need to stop,” Derek repeated, reluctantly dropping his arms from where they'd been wrapped around Stiles' back. “It's... this is our first date, Stiles and I...” Stiles was looking at him with his head tilted slightly, lips shiny and parted and Derek had to look away from his soft gaze before he could spit out the rest of his words. 

“I _like_ you, Stiles.” He knew that he sounded like a pre-teen talking to their first crush and he also knew that if Laura had been around, she never would have let him live it down. “And I had a really good time tonight. I want to do it again sometime, before we... go further,” he finished, trying very hard to ignore the fact that, despite what his mind wanted, his dick was still very insistently pressing against his zipper. 

“Is that okay?” he asked after Stiles continued to just stare at him with hooded eyes, fingers still gripping the sides of Derek's jacket. 

“Totally fine,” he finally murmured, voice still rough and accented. He smoothed his hands down Derek's chest one more time before he zipped his jacket back up. “You're right, this isn't exactly the best place for that kind of stuff anyways. I'd prefer my bruises to be from something slightly more fun than the fire escape.” He rubbed at his back slightly and Derek couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt. 

“You better not be joking about another date though,” Stiles said, stooping to pick up his backpack. “'Cause that would be a real dick move.” Although the tone of his voice was fairly jovial, the joke didn't quite reach his eyes and before Stiles could say anything else, Derek leaned in and pressed another lingering kiss to the corner of his sinfully gorgeous mouth. 

“Does it look like I'm joking?” he said once he'd pulled away, trying to remain as neutral-faced as possibly. Stiles simply snorted (which was _not_ a sound Derek should have found endearing) and rolled his eyes. 

“Nope. Just looks like you wanna tear my throat out again.” He leaned in and pressed a quick _smack_ of a kiss to Derek's jaw before he started making his way up the fire escape, which screeched alarmingly loud with each step he took. 

“ _Dobranoc_ , Derek,” he called back over his shoulder and although Derek knew he could have just as easily been imagining it, he was certain that Stiles had deliberately rolled the r sound in his name.

He was going to be the death of him. _They_ were going to be the death of him. 

His apartment was in the opposite direction as Stiles', so he had to cross back through campus on the way, which gave him plenty of time to mull the situation over in his mind. He knew he should have felt a little more guilty about the fact that he had been with both Stiles and Stuart in such a small period of time, but one quick handjob in the depths of a library did not mean he was in a committed relationship with the bespectacled twin. A _date_ on the other hand? Well, that was undoubtedly a little more serious, but it had (so far) only occurred once, which hardly spelled exclusive. 

He knew it was nothing more than bullshit rationalizing but it did make him feel a little better about himself. For the time being. 

When he finally got back to his own apartment at half past eleven, Erica and Isaac were both sitting on the living room couch, a bowl of popcorn and a massive bag of Cheetos taking up the entire coffee table. They were watching one of the numerous horror films that had found their way into Erica's collection and as a spurt of obviously fake blood filled the screen, Derek couldn't help but imagine Stiles' voice in his head, tearing the scene apart. 

“Derek!” Erica yelled, twisting around on the couch so that she was looking back at him. “Wanna come watch?” Truthfully, Derek thought the damn thing looked horrible but he knew that if he tried to go to sleep immediately, he was just going to be distracted by thoughts (both inappropriate and otherwise) of the Stilinski twins so he nodded and sat down between his siblings. Even though he could smell both Erica's flowery perfume and Isaac's muskier cologne, he could also detect the smell of pot lingering on both of them and he simply shook his head and settled back, stealing a handful of popcorn from the massive bowl. 

“Do you ever wonder if you might be a bad person?” he asked after no less than three characters were brutally killed in a span of five minutes. 

“Nope,” Isaac said from beside him, licking orange Cheetos dust off of his fingers even as another character had their throat slashed open. “I have other things to worry about. Why, do you?” 

“Sometimes,” Derek muttered, tilting his head back against the couch and letting his eyes drop shut for a second. 

“Derek, everyone is kind of a bad person,” Erica said from his other side, patting him condescendingly on the bicep. “Even the Pope isn't perfect. Now stop having a pity party and be quiet, movie's on.” 

“Why do I even talk to you?” he groaned, dropping his hands back into his lap and grabbing another handful of the absurdly buttery popcorn. 

“Because you love us, Derek, now _shut up._ ” Derek shot a glare at his sister but she was already intently staring back at the screen, completely enamored with the bloodbath taking place. The movie ended only a few minutes later but Erica sprang off the couch and grabbed another DVD that had been hiding on the other side of the popcorn bowl. This one appeared to be a direct sequel to the one they had just finished up and Derek made a note of the title (for conversation purposes with Stiles) before he let himself be completely repulsed and amused by the fake carnage going on in the film. 

He hardly remembered feeling tired, let alone falling asleep, yet when his eyes opened, he was still on the couch and the sun was shining through the balcony door. Isaac was still asleep beside him, long legs propped up on the coffee table, head cushioned on the arm of the sofa. Erica was also still in the same spot, curled into a ball with her feet squarely in Derek's lap but she was awake, munching on a bowl of the super sugary cereal she always threw into the grocery cart whenever she tagged along shopping. She was absently thumbing through her cell phone and when Derek groaned as he cracked his neck, she poked him in the leg with her toe. 

“You've vibrated a few times,” she said, yawning slightly. It took Derek's sleep-addled mind a few seconds to understand what she was talking about but when he put two and two together, he pulled his phone out of his pocket. Thankfully, it was just past nine in the morning; although he didn't have class that day, he had a shift at the library starting at two and he definitely needed to have a shower before he left, possibly after a quick run. 

He had two text messages, both of them from Stiles, time-stamped only an hour or so previous. 

**Stiles, 8:15AM:** thank you for last night Derek. Well worth the bruise across my back. 

**Stiles, 8:18AM:** no seriously, look at this bruise.

The second text had a picture attached to it and Derek had to bite down on his lip in order to hold back a groan. The picture was of Stiles' bare back and sure enough, there was a dark bruise across his skin, right above the waistband of his jeans. Derek had no idea _how_ Stiles had taken the picture; unless he'd enlisted Stuart's help (which seemed unlikely), he would have had to twist himself into one hell of an awkward position. 

For some reason, as he typed out a reply, that realization made Derek feel strangely pleased with himself. 

_Derek Hale, 9:09AM:_ i'm sorry. I'll be at work this afternoon, I can apologize in person if you'll be there. 

_Derek Hale, 9:10AM:_ by the way, have you ever seen any of the Midnight Slasher films? 

He had just flicked his phone off when Erica sat her now-empty bowl onto the crowded coffee table and pulled her legs up to her chest, grinning at him in a way that made him want to hop over the couch and leave the room before she could speak. 

“So, how'd your date go?”

Too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: the Australian movie with Eric Bana in it is called Chopper. It's quite the interesting film, to say the least.
> 
> also, if there are any mistakes in this chapter, please let me know! I tried to edit to the best of my capacity but I'm really sleepy and probably missed something. =/


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I hope you've all had an awesome week; this chapter isn't exactly very smutty, but everything is about to start coming together towards the endgame. as always, I hope you enjoy. xo.

The next few days went by in a blur; although he'd spent most of the weekend reading, Derek realized that in addition to the work he hadn't quite finished, he had two twelve-page papers due the next week, which meant that he had to actually sit down and dedicate another few hours to nothing but schoolwork. However, he also needed money, so while he got one of his co-workers to cover his Friday night shift, he kept his Thursday afternoon one. As soon as he finished work at eight, he simply relocated to the top floor of the library, where the private study cubicles for grad students were located. The floor was quiet as a tomb and despite the fairly late hour, he had a sinking feeling that every single one of the cubicles would be occupied. Thankfully, he found one near the back corner of the room and he slid into it before anyone could pop out of the shadows and grab it. 

The cubicles were extremely small; there was hardly enough room for a scratched-up desk, a tiny wastebasket and a chair that had seen far better days. But what mattered most was that they were private. The only window was a tiny pane of glass set into the doorway and although the cubicle had no roof, someone would have had to stand on top of their desk to peer over the walls and Derek really hoped that the students around him had better things to do than look at him like a lion in a cage. He quickly texted Erica to let her know that he wouldn't be home for awhile before he set up shop, plugging in his laptop and covering the top of the desk with his course packs and notebooks. 

It was going to be a _long_ night. 

For the next three hours, he threw himself into his readings, writing down important points and highlighting concepts that could be useful for his essays. He only got distracted a few times; at some point, his mind had drifted off towards his date with Stiles and before he could return his focus to his work, he'd been looking up how to say a few basic phrases in Polish. By the time he managed to get back to reading, he'd practiced saying the phrases for hello and goodbye, in addition to getting himself re-familiarized with the words for be quiet that he'd learned previously. 

By the time that his phone started buzzing on the tabletop, he'd actually made a good dent in his work. He'd gotten a few texts but he'd ignored them; this, however, was a phone call and although he had a feeling that the people in the adjoining cubicles were going to hate him, he wasn't willing to get up and leave the floor just to take the call. 

Especially since his caller ID said _Stiles._

“Stiles, are you okay?” he answered, flicking a glance at the time on his laptop. It was already past eleven; he was due for a break anyways. 

“Derek, are you working tonight?” Stiles was talking even faster than usual, the words sounding borderline frantic as they came out of his mouth.

“I'm not working, but I'm at the library,” Derek said, ignoring the sharp rap as someone knocked on one of the walls of the cubicle. “Why?” 

“Oh God, I feel so bad for asking you, I'm sure you've got important shit that you're working on-” 

“ _Stiles_ ,” Derek said firmly and Stiles stopped talking in the middle of a word. “What did you need to ask me?” Stiles sighed on the other end of the phone and while he waited for him to spit out what he needed, Derek started packing up his stuff with his free hand. 

“Okay, I have this paper due tomorrow morning for my World War II class and I cannot find _anything_ on my goddamn topic. I've been looking for hours and I've got absolute zilch and yeah, I know, I should have started earlier but-” Stiles trailed off and muttered a number of Polish words that held the distinct tone of swear words.

“Are you in the same spot as always?” Derek asked, shoving his notebook into his backpack. 

“Yeah, me and Stu are both here.” 

“I'll be right down.” Derek hung up and took a slow, steady breath. While he'd seen Stiles Tuesday afternoon, in order to apologize for the bruise on his back (and to get into a debate about whether or not the Midnight Slasher film series had any merits at all), it had been almost a week since he'd seen Stuart, let alone seen both twins at once. He had no way of gauging how awkward things were going to be, but Stiles had asked for his help and he wasn't going to beg off on that, especially since he'd taken the World War II class in the second year of his own undergrad and he felt like he could probably still remember the material if he tried. 

While he was waiting for the elevator to descend to the ground floor, he took a quick glance at himself in the mirrored walls. It'd been a few days since he'd shaved and his facial hair was starting to transition from mere stubble to borderline beard. He also had his glasses on; he'd woken up twenty minutes before he was supposed to be in class and he'd had no time to deal with putting his contacts in. Overall, as the elevator dinged, he thought that he looked pretty worn down. 

The twins, on the other hand, seemed to disagree. 

They were sitting in their normal spot, having claimed the table and the four chairs that surrounded it. When Derek stepped out of the shelves, Stuart was leaning over, rapidly typing away on his laptop, which was sitting at the edge of the table. He had a pair of earbuds in and even though his hair was mashed down underneath his beanie, some sections were sticking out above his ears. He was wearing his black cardigan again, with the sleeves rolled down, and the sight was still enough to make Derek's stomach flip. 

While Stuart looked the very image of productive student, Stiles looked as frantic as he had sounded. His side of the table was a mess of pens and loose sheets of paper and he was slouched in his chair, laptop on his lap, staring at the screen with what looked like barely concealed panic and derision.

“Cześć,” Derek said as he stepped closer, trying his best to pronounce the word according to what he'd read and listened to earlier on in the evening. 

“A+ on your pronunciation,” Stiles said, as he typed something brief on his computer. “You can also say hej if you...” The instant he glanced up from his laptop, Stiles stopped speaking. His lips were still parted but he wasn't making a sound and his eyes were focused directly on Derek. Or at least, he thought so; Derek glanced over his shoulder and didn't see anything but bookshelves, so he assumed he was the topic of Stiles' staring, although he couldn't figure out why. 

“What?” he asked, settling down in the chair closest to Stiles, who shook himself and closed his mouth. 

“Nothing. I didn't know you wore glasses. You look... like a wet dream.” Derek wasn't as surprised as he knew he probably should have been; he simply raised his eyebrow and tried not to smirk as a red flush crept up Stiles' neck and his face. 

“That so?” Stiles nodded again and Derek couldn't stop himself from grinning. “Well, you don't look too bad yourself,” he replied and he meant it. Stiles did look tired and maybe a little pale but he was still a sight to behold, especially when he practically _beamed._ Across the table, Stuart snorted quietly and when Derek glanced at him, raising another eyebrow, he simply rolled his eyes. The instant Stiles returned his gaze to his laptop however, muttering about accidentally closing the guidelines for the paper, Stuart caught Derek's eyes, tugged on the sleeve of his sweater and _winked._

Derek was glad Stiles was busy going through his files, because he was pretty sure he had a fairly obvious blush of his own staining his skin. 

Once Stiles brought the assignment outline up, he could feel himself going back to second year. He'd had the same professor as Stiles and as far as he could recall, the assignment was identical to the one he'd had to complete. The paper only had to be six pages long but, true to his word, Stiles had nothing but a title page complete. Thankfully, while Derek remembered choosing a different topic when he'd written his paper, he had a good idea of where Stiles could start. He let Stiles bounce ideas off of him (while Stuart rapidly typed away in the background) and once he had narrowed the question down further, the search for sources began. Once he'd shown Stiles the better way to find journal articles through the school's website, he directed him to the section of the library that contained the books on World War II, listing a few titles that he faintly remembered from some of his other courses. Stiles had barely finished scrawling the titles on a piece of loose-leaf paper before he was jumping out of his chair, shin smacking into the low table. 

“Thank you so much Der, you are fucking awesome,” he declared and before Derek could really react to the unexpected nickname, Stiles was disappearing into the shelves, his loud footsteps slowly fading away. 

“He _really_ likes you.” When Derek looked up, Stuart was still typing, albeit much more slowly, and he was looking up over the edge of his laptop. He had the corner of his lip sucked tight between his teeth and Derek swallowed hard, because he really wanted to lean over the table and do... something. Anything. 

What he _didn't_ want to do was talk to Stuart about his still-undefined relationship with Stiles. 

“Did you need any help with anything?” he asked, ignoring the way Stuart was still staring at him with an expression Derek couldn't really interpret. 

“No, I'm fine. I chose a different topic, I've been done for days.” Something about the way Stuart said the words made Derek suspect he wasn't being totally honest and he kept Stuart's gaze, giving him the look he usually reserved for Isaac and Erica when they were obviously lying about something. To his credit, Stuart didn't look away for a number of seconds but then, like the air rushing out of a balloon, he sighed and leaned back in his chair, tilting his head towards the ceiling and rubbing a hand over his jaw. 

“Well, if you're gonna be sitting here anyways, I wouldn't mind a second opinion on my paper,” he said, pulling his glasses off and rubbing at his eyes. He sounded only half as confident as usual and the change was so unexpected that Derek actually needed a moment to shake off his surprise. Once he'd gotten over it, he pulled up one of the empty chairs so that he could peer at Stuart's screen. 

Stiles came back a few moments later, arms laden with books. There was an energy drink precariously balanced on top of the stack and when Derek glanced at it before meeting Stiles' eyes, the other man simply shrugged before he plopped back into his chair and got back to work. Derek resumed glancing over Stuart's essay, which was quite well-written. Every time he made a comment, Stuart made note of it, rapidly jotting down a note on his phone and nodding. His knee knocked against Derek's every few moments and Derek wasn't stupid enough to think that it wasn't a deliberate action. 

Reading over the essay didn't take too long and once he had handed the laptop back to Stuart, he returned to his former spot beside Stiles, who was taking a sip of his drink with one hand and typing rapidly with the other one. He looked like he was in the zone so rather than interrupting him, Derek pulled his own work out of his backpack and set himself up on the tiny section of the table that wasn't already occupied. 

The hours passed by quickly and in relative silence, aside from the flying of fingers over keyboards and the occasional mutter, in both Polish and English. Although the place was certainly louder than the private cubicles had been, Derek was willing to give up that peace and quiet for the twin's company. He breezed through his own readings but even when he finished the last one at one o'clock in the morning, he wasn't quite willing to go home yet. Stiles was still working on his essay and Stuart seemed to have found something to do on his laptop, in addition to flashing glances (some obviously wanton, others much more difficult to figure out) at Derek every few moments. So once he was finished his readings, he turned his attention to creating outlines for the essays he had to write for the next week and ten minutes before the library closed at two, Stiles slammed his laptop closed with an echoing smack. 

“Done!” he yelled triumphantly, thrusting his arms into the air above his head. 

“Thank Christ,” Stuart muttered, closing his own computer with a much quieter sound. “I've been ready to leave for the last two hours.” 

“Well, no one said you had to stay,” Stiles snapped but when he turned back to Derek, any remnants of annoyance had been replaced by a soft smile. 

“Derek, you didn't have to stay the whole time,” he said, sliding his computer into his bag. “I feel bad enough for getting you down here in the first place-” 

“Stiles, cicho bądźcie,” Derek interrupted. “It's fine, really. Besides, I got all my work done.”

As far as Derek could tell, they were some of the last people leaving the library; as they walked towards the exit, he could see that some of the sections had already gone dark. Outside was much the same. Aside from a few stragglers here and there, campus was positively abandoned and Derek certainly didn't mind. It was almost downright peaceful, even if he had a Stilinski twin on either side of him, sniping at each other, switching back and forth between languages so quickly that Derek really had only a cursory idea of what they were talking about. 

“Did you want me to walk you two home?” he asked once there was a break in the argument. 

“Don't you live in the opposite direction?” Stuart replied, pulling his phone out of his pocket and quickly tapping away at the screen. 

“What Stuart means is that would be awesome,” Stiles said before Derek could answer and based on the way Stuart made a cross between a yell and a yelp, Stiles had reached behind Derek's back and somehow injured him. “We're too damn pretty to be out here by ourselves. Anyone says anything, you can just glare at them and they'll run away screaming.” 

“I do _not_ look that angry,” Derek muttered. He couldn't help thinking about just how well Stiles and Laura would get along and he tried his best to push the wayward thought to the back of his mind. He wasn't even officially dating the guy, it was _way_ too early to be having those thoughts. 

“You keep telling yourself that, big guy,” Stiles replied, slinging his arm around Derek's shoulders and flashing him an absurdly goofy grin. It was obviously meant to be a teasing action but when Derek turned his head to look at Stiles, his grin quickly changed into something that was way less innocent. The look was so similar to the one Stuart had mastered that Derek actually had to blink to make sure he wasn't looking at the wrong twin. But no, Stuart was still on his right, still typing away on his phone while he walked and it was definitely Stiles who was looking at Derek like he wanted to pull him into the shadows and sink to his knees. 

If he'd tried to do just that, Derek didn't think that he would have stopped him. Instead, Stiles' arm slipped down his back and skimmed over his hip and before it fell away completely, Derek caught Stiles' hand with his own. There wasn't a single moment of hesitation on Stiles' part; his fingers immediately slotted themselves between Derek's and he squeezed tightly, a silent assurance. It may have been a fairly chaste action, all things considered, but Derek still felt like he was flushing with warmth from the inside out.

Once Stuart put his phone away, they all fell back into an easy conversation. Stuart was just as close to him as Stiles was; every so often, he would bump against Derek's side and while Derek knew that, theoretically, it could have been accidental, he was certain he knew Stuart better than that. 

The hand sliding into his back pocket, however, still came as a surprise. 

They had just left campus and Derek was so focused on the feeling of Stiles' thumb whisking over the back of his hand that it took him a few moments to realize that there was definitely a long-fingered hand in the back pocket of his jeans. He bit down on his lip and glanced sideways at where Stuart was currently talking about some of the other projects they had coming up. He turned his head so that Derek had a more direct sight line of his face and, without his words faltering, he _squeezed._

Derek managed to disguise his groan as a cough but keeping his face from betraying him was much harder. It was dark out, even with the streetlights here and there, so Derek knew that there was a chance that Stiles might not be able to see where his twin's hand was if he looked back. But that was a _chance;_ the possibility also existed that he would see it and Derek knew that would undoubtedly end badly. But there wasn't really anything he could do to get Stuart to remove his hand without calling attention to it. 

He was damned if he did and damned if he didn't and truth be told, he didn't really want Stuart to move his hand anyways. 

They encountered hardly another soul on the streets and by the time they reached the twin's home, Derek felt like he was about to burst. Every light in the building was off and the only illumination in the area came from a dim streetlight across the street. He was still connected to both twins, Stiles on his left and Stuart on his right and when Stuart pulled his hand back from his pocket, Derek couldn't help but breathe out a sign of relief, even as his mind continued to venture into extremely explicit territory. 

“Thanks for the help Derek,” Stuart said, dropping his hand onto Derek's shoulder for a beat longer than would have signaled mere thankfulness. “I'm sure I'll see you around.” He quickly rattled off something to Stiles, who simply nodded and gave a one word reply that Derek didn't recognize. With that, Stuart headed up the rickety set of stairs that led to their apartment and Derek returned his attention back to Stiles, who had let go of his hand and was standing in front of him, tongue flicking over his lips. 

“So. You called me Der earlier,” Derek said, trying very hard not to stare at Stiles' mouth. 

“Yeah, I'm sorry about that,” Stiles said sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I realized how dumb it sounded after, but it just kinda slipped out. But don't worry, I don't plan on using it ever again, swear on my video game collection.” 

“That's actually kind of a shame.” Derek had never been one for nicknames; he vaguely remembered Laura trying to call him Derry when he was younger but thankfully, his other siblings had been too young (and his parents had been too kind) for it to really catch on. But Der... he could get used to Der, he thought, if only because he liked the way it sounded, the way it slipped out of Stiles' mouth so easily.

“So you _don't_ mind if I call you that? 'Cause your face is doing that default, angry thing again.” 

“I don't mind at all.” 

“Awesome.” Stiles gently slid his backpack off his shoulders and nudged it out of the way with his foot and Derek could feel the anticipation that had been thrumming gently underneath his skin for the entire walk grow in intensity.

“I know it's really fucking late and you should be getting back, but I've wanted to kiss you for like the last three hours, alright?” Derek nodded and then Stiles was surging forward, knocking Derek's glasses askew, mouth pressing against his like he was a coiled spring that had just snapped. One of Stiles' hands had immediately gone underneath his jacket and was fisted in the back of his shirt while the other was curled around his neck, fingers brushing over his hair. Derek quickly turned them around, pressing Stiles up against the brick wall of his building. It was a little rougher than he had intended to but Stiles simply tightened his grip around Derek's neck, pulling him in closer. 

The hand that started out underneath his jacket slid down his chest and around into the back pocket of his jeans, the same pocket that Stuart had just relinquished. When he squeezed Derek's ass, Derek cursed into Stiles' mouth, his hips pressing forward of their own accord. He delved back in as soon as he had caught a breath, sliding his tongue between Stiles' lips, still sticky with the sugar from his energy drink. Derek usually hated the damn things but in Stiles' mouth, they tasted pretty damn good and by the time he had to pull away to breath again, he was pretty sure that the taste was going to linger in his own mouth for hours. 

He knew he should have been leaving, should have cut off the goodnight kiss but Derek wasn't ready for that yet. From where his hand was cradling Stiles' jaw, he could feel the younger man's heartbeat rabbiting underneath his skin and Derek really wanted to feel it against his mouth as well. He brushed his lips over Stiles' cheek and when he pressed them against the hollow of his pulse point, Stiles tipped his head back and his fingers tightened in Derek's hair until his grip was almost painful.

 _Almost_ being the key word. 

“Fuck, tak dobrze,” he cursed and Derek could feel the words rumbling in his throat before they hit the air. Stiles' hand had slipped out of his pocket and was just underneath the back of his shirt, fingers gliding over the small of his back and in order to lower the volume of his own moan, Derek gently bit down on Stiles' jawbone and the boy _keened_ , hips pressing against Derek's. There was a flicker of movement in his peripheral vision and Derek switched to the other side of Stiles' neck, unwilling to give up paying attention to him in order to see what he'd glimpsed. 

What he saw made his throat suddenly go dry. 

Stuart was standing at the top of the steps, backlit by the dim light spilling out of the open door of their apartment. One of his hands was wrapped around the railing for the stairs and the other one... 

Well, Derek only looked for a few moments, but he was _positive_ that Stuart's other hand had been palming the front of his jeans. 

He managed to extract himself from Stiles, who was all tousled hair and flushed face, a few moments later and by the time he got back to his apartment, it was nearly three in the morning. He was finally starting to get tired but his mind had been racing with thoughts the entire walk, thoughts that he knew were going to keep him from sleeping. The one most prominent in his mind was Stuart's unexpected appearance on the landing and the more Derek thought about it, the more conflicted he was. He was tired after all, his mind could have been playing tricks on him, but he trusted his eyesight. It could have just been bad timing on his own part but he was almost certain that Stuart had been purposefully pressing his hand against his dick. And that thought... well, it didn't bother Derek as much as it should have. While his fantasies for the last month had almost exclusively featured at least one Stilinski twin, there were definitely a substantial amount that featured _both_ of them, simultaneously, pressing against himself from all sides, pressing against each other. 

But that was all they were: fantasies. There was no way they would ever go for it. People didn't actually agree to that, not outside of porn.

By the time he stepped back through the door, his erection had finally flagged and he was still no closer to muddling through the thoughts in his brain. The apartment was surprisingly cool and when he stepped into the living room, he realized that the balcony doors were half-open; he could faintly smell pot drifting in. Sure enough, when he stepped outside, Isaac was sitting on the ratty loveseat, computer in his lap, jotting down notes on a piece of paper beside him.

“Couldn't sleep?” Derek asked, settling down onto one of the creaking plastic chairs beside the couch. 

“Nope. Figured I'd get some more work done,” Isaac replied, rubbing at his eyes as he continued to stare at the screen. “How are things going with the Stilinski twins?” 

Derek may not have been certain about what Stuart had been doing, but he _was_ certain that his jaw dropped at Isaac's casually delivered words. He couldn't even come up with a reply; he simply sat there and gaped at his younger brother while Isaac snickered until he started to cough. 

“I sit behind Stiles in World Cinema,” he said once he'd stopped coughing, although his laughter still hadn't receded. “Let's just say that I think his friend is sick of hearing about you.” 

“How'd you know about Stuart?” Derek finally managed to spit out, having not entirely picked his jaw up off the ground yet. 

“Well, you said you had the hots for two guys who were related. I extrapolated, Derek.” The conversation came back as soon as Isaac mentioned it, but Derek had been certain that Isaac had been too busy getting interrogated by Erica to catch what he'd said. He made a note to call Laura and tell her that Isaac had apparently inherited her ability to hear everything and anything, even when they seemingly weren't paying any attention. 

“So, have you screwed them yet?”

He also made a note to tell Laura that Isaac had additionally inherited her bluntness and complete lack of tact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a big thanks to the lovely reader who has helped me out with the Polish translations for the last few chapters! here's the glossary of terms used in this chapter: 
> 
> Cześć = hello/hi.  
> Hey = hey.  
> Cicho bądźcie = be quiet.  
> Tak dobrze = that feels good.


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning, Derek managed to squeeze in a run before his eleven-thirty class and then it was back to the library, where he snagged another private cubicle and settled himself in for a long day of paper writing. By the time his phone buzzed, he'd been working for two hours straight, gotten three pages done of his first twelve-page essay and the coffee he'd drank on his way to class was starting to wear off. Thankfully, the text he had received improved his mood slightly, even if it didn't necessarily make him any more awake. 

**Stiles, 3:06PM:** are you in the library? 

_Derek Hale, 3:07PM:_ yeah, I'm upstairs. Did you want me to come down? 

**Stiles, 3:09PM:** nope be right up. I'll be quiet. 

Only a few moments later, there was a quick rap on the door and Stiles let himself in, precariously balancing two large coffees from the cafe on campus and a paper bag in his fingertips. There were bags under his eyes but he looked far less stressed than he had the night before and the wide grin he shot at Derek was downright irresistible. 

“I just wanted to bring you something, for helping last night,” he said, carefully setting the drinks down onto Derek's already crowded desk. “Plus I figured you might appreciate the caffeine.” 

“Stiles, you didn't have to do that.” That wasn't a lie; helping Stiles really hadn't been much of a burden and besides, Derek had had a few ulterior motives behind wanting to help him out. But he still appreciated the gesture; he definitely hadn't gotten enough sleep the night before and his caffeine high was plummeting.

“Yeah, but I wanted to.” Stiles shrugged as he dropped the small paper bag beside the drinks. When it toppled over, at least a dozen packets of sugar and creamer scattered across the surface. “I wasn't sure what you took in it so I kind of grabbed... everything,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck and leaning against the edge of the desk as he took a small sip from his own drink. 

“It's your lucky day,” Derek said, sweeping the packets of sugar back into the bag. “I take it black. Easy to remember.” 

“Way to be boring. Don't give me that face, I was joking,” Stiles replied, nudging Derek's leg with his foot. The person in the next booth knocked on the adjoining wall, their not-so-subtle way of saying shut up but before Derek could say anything about lowering the volume of their conversation, Stiles was pressing his drink into Derek's empty hand and climbing up onto the desk, sending loose pieces of paper to the floor. 

“You're watching porn on your laptop, so don't bitch about us talking,” he hissed, poking his head over the top of the wall. “And not even _good_ porn, I might add.” With that, he pulled his head back and clambered off the top of the desk before returning to his previous spot and plucking his drink back out of Derek's hand. 

“Was he actually watching porn?” Derek asked, closing his laptop and sliding it into his bag so that it wouldn't accidentally get knocked over. He liked Stiles, liked him a whole lot but if the man broke his computer, even if it was an accident, he didn't want to ponder how long it would take him to forgive him. 

“Yep. You grad students are pervs,” he said, smirking at Derek (an expression that was far too reminiscent of his twin) and nudging his leg again. “Speaking of which, the bruise you gave me _just_ healed and now I have brick burn.” 

“I wasn't aware brick burn existed.” 

“Oh, want proof?” Setting his drink to the side, Stiles slid off the desk and turned around, casually pulling his striped hoodie and his shirt up to the bottom of his ribs. Sure enough, the small of his back was a blotchy red color, in striking contrast to the pale, smooth skin around it. The area was also flecked with even more moles and when Stiles didn't lower his shirts right away, Derek reached out and laid his hand on the sore skin, rubbing his thumb gently against the irritated area. 

“I'm sorry,” he said quietly and when Stiles hissed slightly, Derek leaned forward in his chair and pressed his lips against the rough skin. Stiles' hiss quickly turned into a gasp and his hands dropped to the desk, gripping the edge. Derek's hand caught his sweater before it could cover the skin back up and he held it in position as he pressed lingering kisses to each patch of irritated skin, flicking his tongue against a few dark moles for good measure. When he reluctantly pulled away, letting Stiles' hoodie drop back into its proper spot, Stiles sighed and turned around, one hand still gripping the desk. 

“Apology accepted,” he said and Derek caught the tremble in his voice. But he didn't have time to comment on it (not that he would have anyways) because Stiles was climbing into his lap and kissing him, his fingers twisted in the loose fabric of Derek's shirt.

By the time Stiles left in order to make it to his four o'clock class, his neck had been bright red with stubble burn and Derek's coffee was so cold that it was almost undrinkable.

&. 

Seven o'clock came and went and Derek managed to make it over the halfway mark of his first paper. He considered that to be enough progress for the day, especially since he was hungry as all hell. He could do more work at home, where there was food and coffee and a chair that would probably do less damage to his spine in the long run. He'd just started to pack up when there was a quick series of knocks on the door. Without looking, he had no idea who it was; it could have been Stiles but based on his past behavior, he was sure that Stiles would have texted him if he planned on coming by again. 

“Be out in a minute,” he called over his shoulder, picking up a sugar wrapper from underneath the desk and dropping it in the garbage can. The door slid open behind him and he glanced backwards, ready to tell off some over-eager student who hadn't learned the meaning of patience. 

Instead, he was met with Stuart, who was softly shutting the door behind him, leaning up against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. For once, he wasn't wearing his beanie and Derek actually appreciated the change. His hair was rumpled like he'd just gotten out of bed and he was wearing obscenely tight dark jeans and all Derek could see in his mind was the silhouette from the night before, of Stuart palming himself while Derek made out with his brother. 

He had a very bad (or maybe it was a very good) feeling about what was about to happen. 

“Stiles mentioned you were up here,” he said, nodding at where the coffee cup with his twin's name on it was still sitting on the corner of Derek's desk. 

“He wanted to thank me for helping him out yesterday,” Derek replied, trying (and failing, he was sure) to sound as neutral as possible. “Did you need help with another paper?”

“Nope.” Stuart slid his backpack off his shoulders and ran a hand through his already tousled hair. “I actually came by to thank you as well. If you'd let me, of course.” 

“Why wouldn't I let you thank me?” Derek asked, trying to ignore how dry his throat had gotten. Stuart shrugged easily and stepped across the room before he gracefully sank to his knees on the thin carpet, staring up at Derek over the rim of his glasses. 

“I don't know. Maybe because I didn't bring you coffee,” he chuckled, his eyes dark, even in the bright room. His hands came up to rest on Derek's knees, thumbs dragging back and forth over the denim. Derek could feel the warmth from Stuart's palms even through his jeans and it felt like the heat was going directly to his dick. “But I _could_ give you something else.” 

“And what's that?” Derek knew he was going straight to hell but he shifted slightly, moving towards the edge of the chair and Stuart smirked up at him, sliding his hands up higher.

“Well, you did seem to like my hand last time,” he murmured, shifting closer so that his mouth was hovering just above Derek's stomach. His hands had moved up even higher until his thumbs were pressed into the crease of Derek's thighs, so tantalizingly close to where Derek could already feel himself straining against the fabric of his jeans. 

“How 'bout I show you what my mouth can do?” he asked, using one hand to push Derek's shirt up. Derek glanced over at the thin wall of the cubicle. There was someone on the other side of that, someone who could all too easily hear and report them and the same went for anyone who happened to walk by and glance through the tiny window set into the door. Yet, just like in the shelves, neither of those things appeared to deter Stuart; his warm mouth was now dragging down Derek's stomach and his thumbs were tracing circles on the inside of Derek's thighs. 

“We'll have to be quiet,” he said quietly, reaching out and brushing his hands over Stuart's hair, soft except for where there was gel pressed into it. 

“Won't be a problem,” Stuart said and one of his hands moved so that it was pressing against the front of Derek's jeans. The unexpected touch made him gasp and Stuart laughed again, the wanton sound sending sparks through Derek's nerves.

“Well, it won't be a problem for _me_ ,” he amended, nimble fingers unbuttoning Derek's jeans. “You might want to bite onto something.”

By the time Derek came down the back of Stuart's warm, absurdly talented mouth, he had bitten his own hand so hard that he could taste blood. When Stuart sat back onto his heels, wiping off his lips with the back of his hand, there was a smear of come on his cheekbones and a drop on his glasses. Derek reached down to wipe it off but Stuart beat him to it; he dragged his thumb across his cheek and sucked it into his mouth, releasing it with a loud pop. When he stood up, tongue flicking out and licking the corner of his lips, Derek couldn't help the groan that fell from his mouth. 

And then the image of the previous night came back to him; it'd been in the back of his mind since Stuart had walked through the door but he'd been too busy focusing on other things to really pay it much thought. Now that the haze of his orgasm was slowly starting to dissipate, it came back with a vengeance. 

“Stuart, can I ask you something?” Stuart was just pulling his backpack onto his shoulders and the only indication that he heard Derek was the way he inclined his head. 

“Were you watching me and Stiles last night?” Derek asked after a few moments of trying to get the words to come out. He didn't know how he expected Stuart to react but another dark chuckle certainly hadn't been on his list of possibilities. He took his glasses off and wiped them on his shirt, polishing away the spot of come. 

“You gonna be mad if I was?” After a moment, Derek shook his head and when Stuart replaced his (now clean) glasses on his face, he was pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, although Derek couldn't tell if Stuart was trying to hide a grin or a frown. He simply looked like he was deeply mulling over something. 

“In that case, yes,” he finally said. “I was doing _exactly_ what you think I was doing." Before Derek could say anything else, Stuart slipped out the door, soundlessly pulling it closed. Derek stared at the door for a few moments before he finished gathering up his things. 

&.

He hardly remembered the walk back to his apartment; his feet made the journey automatically while his mind was occupied with other things. He still didn't know quite how to deal with the information Stuart had given him. He hadn't even been able to get a read on how the younger man himself felt about the encounter. 

When he managed to simplify it, what really did it for Derek was that Stuart hadn't even _tried_ to deny it. That in itself seemed to imply a lack of shame and _that_ opened an entire other door. 

Erica was gone when he got in but Isaac was sprawled on the couch in the living room, textbooks and papers spread everywhere, headphones stuck in his ears. He looked like he was on a roll so Derek didn't bother interrupting; he threw together a quick snack in the kitchen and retreated to his bedroom, where he managed to distract himself for a few hours from the maelstrom of thoughts going on in his head. 

At least, until his cell phone rang around midnight, just as he was sliding beneath the covers on his bed. The caller ID indicated that it was Stiles calling and he fumbled at the screen, answering the call even as his stomach churned with nerves. 

“Hey Stiles,” he said, turning off the lamp on his bedside table. “What's up?”

“Well, I was trying to sleep but I just keep thinking about this midterm I have coming up on Monday and Stuart said that if I didn't stop tossing and turning, he was gonna kick me out of our room, so now I'm on the couch.” 

_Our_ room. Two simple, seemingly innocuous words but they nonetheless made a parade of explicit fantasies go careening through Derek's head.

“What class is the midterm for?” he managed to say, turning over onto his back so that he could hold the phone better. 

“Russian Cinema,” Stiles sighed and Derek could hear the sounds of the sofa squeaking in the background. “I'm just worried that I'm gonna completely blank once the test is front of me.”

“I know that feeling. I've never taken the course, but if you wanna bounce some of the material off of me, you can.” 

“Thanks for the offer, but I wish I could just go to sleep,” Stiles groaned, his last words muffled like he was pressing his face into the cushions. “I've tried everything outside of a sleeping pill; counting sheep, drinking tea, jerking off-”

Derek's mouth went dry and he was pretty sure all the blood in his face ran south. 

“And that didn't work either?” he asked, trying his very best to _not_ sound like he was imagining what Stiles would look like with his hand around his dick. 

“Nope. Might try again though. It's worth a shot, right?” 

“Yeah,” he rasped. The ability to speak was becoming harder and harder with every additional word Stiles said and Derek dropped one hand to his waist, fingers fiddling with the tie on his sweatpants. “I'll let you go so you can do that.” 

“You don't have to go.” Derek's fingers froze. “I mean, if you don't want to,” Stiles added, stammering slightly. “Like, obviously you don't have to stick around and listen to me jerk off but... you don't have to leave either.” 

They were going to be the death of him. That was all there was to it. On the other end of the line, he could hear nothing but Stiles breathing and Derek sighed quietly, putting his phone on speaker and setting it on the pillow beside him.

“I'm not gonna leave,” he said, untying his sweatpants and shoving them down his legs to the end of the bed. “I...I wanna hear what you sound like.” 

“Ask and you shall receive.” There was a loud rustling noise and when it stopped, the sound quality of the call was different, like Stiles had put his phone on speaker as well. “But only if I get to hear you too.” 

“Isn't Stuart home?” Derek asked. As much as he was (more than willing) to fulfill Stiles' request, it sounded like Stiles was just courting danger and while he had a feeling Stuart wouldn't feel guilty about walking in on his twin jerking off, he wasn't sure how Stiles would react to it. 

“He's asleep. He won't know,” Stiles said simply and like that, the last of Derek's inhibitions fell away. "Okay," he said quietly. For a few long moments, all Derek could hear was Stiles breathing slowly and deeply and he let his eyes drop shut, just listening. 

“I've never done this before,” Stiles murmured, his voice hitching slightly. “So I might not actually talk much...”

“That's okay,” Derek said, fingertips resting on the waistband of his boxers. “Just... do whatever feels good.” He didn't exactly have much expertise in the area either; sure, there'd been a few incidents in high school but those had been pretty damn awkward, filled with lines taken straight out of porn. Stiles gasped quietly and Derek bit down on his lip, trying to resist the urge to slip his hand into his boxers. That could wait a few more moments. 

For a little bit, Stiles was remarkably quiet, aside from some rustling as he shifted and a moan here or there. Derek had heard some of his noises before when they'd been kissing but it was one thing to hear them smothered against his lips; it was quite another to hear them completely unhindered. They were gorgeous, no doubt about it, and Derek couldn't wait until he could hear them again in person. 

“You sound so amazing,” he groaned, pressing his palm down against where his cock was straining against his boxers, and the noise Stiles let out sounded more like a desperate sob than anything. “So beautiful.” 

“ _Jesus_ ,” Stiles whined loudly and when Derek listened closely, he could hear the slick sounds of Stiles' hand moving on his dick. “Do you have any idea how many times I've done this thinking 'bout you?” 

“Really?” Derek asked quietly, arching his hips up against his palm, gasping at the friction. Stiles sighed, the sound broken by another loud gasp.

“Yeah.” Derek thought that he had waited long enough; he peeled his boxers off and kicked them in the same direction as his sweatpants, hissing slightly as the blanket brushed against his cock. “God Derek, wanna do so much with you, _to_ you.” 

“Like what?” Derek reached over towards his bedside table and fumbled blindly in the drawer until he found a bottle of lube. He squeezed some into his hand and kicked the blanket away before he wrapped his slick fingers around himself, not bothering to bite back his moan. He wished that he could see Stiles' face, but there was no point in being greedy and asking for more than what he was already receiving. He was sure that he'd have his chance to see everything in due time anyways. 

“Want to suck you off,” Stiles replied and although his voice was still wavering slightly, Derek couldn't tell if it was from nervousness or from what he was doing to himself. The slick sounds of his hand were much louder now; Derek didn't even have to strain to hear them. “I wanna be on my knees in front of you, want you to pull my hair, want to hear you saying my name over and over again.” 

“ _Fuck_ , Stiles,” Derek groaned, arching up into the tight circle of his fingers. For someone who had apparently never had phone sex before, Stiles was doing a pretty damn good job of making Derek feel like he was going to come before he'd even really started to move his hand. He could imagine everything that Stiles was saying in detail, could see it being projected perfectly against the backdrop of his closed eyelids. He could see himself sitting on a couch, Stiles kneeling between his spread legs, those long, soft fingers pressing into his thighs, warm mouth wrapped around him. His free hand tangled itself in the sheets and he wished that he was gripping Stiles' perpetually messy hair. 

“Would... would you let me do that to you?” Derek asked once he had sucked in a breath, the movement of his hand speeding up slightly, wrist twisting at the top of each upstroke. He knew what he wanted to say next but it'd been so long since he'd said something so filthy out loud that it took him a few long seconds to get the words onto his tongue. “I want to taste you in my mouth, want to take all of you in at once.” 

“O mój Boże,” Stiles whimpered, the sound of his hand increasing in frequency. “You know how to deepthroat?” 

“Mmhm.” Admittedly, it had been awhile since Derek had exercised that particular skill but he was pretty sure that he could still do it, with a little bit of practice. 

“Of course you can, you bastard,” Stiles groaned with absolutely no anger in his voice. His words were followed by more rustling and a pop that sounded an awful lot like someone pulling slick fingers from their mouth. That in turn was followed by Stiles loudly moaning _kurwa_ and unless Stuart was passed right out, Derek was certain that the sheer volume of Stiles' noises would have woken him up. 

“Stiles, are you...” Derek trailed off, trying to catch his breath, hand speeding up even more. He could already feel warmth building up in his body, starting in his stomach and spreading outward and he was so close to coming for the second time that day.

“Tak,” he gasped loudly. “God, wish it was you though, want you to fuck me-”

“Stiles!” Derek yelled as his hips arched up one last time and he came over his fingers and stomach. Stiles was still talking, Polish and English mixing together and by the time Derek finally started to come down from his orgasm, Stiles practically screamed _fuck_. After that, for a few moments, there was only the sound of his panting and an occasional moan, presumably as something brushed against his oversensitive skin. 

“I think I'll be able to sleep now,” he said eventually, his voice raspy and still thickly accented. Derek knew that he was going to have no trouble sleeping; while he'd been waiting for Stiles to recover his faculties, he'd nearly drifted off himself. 

“I'm glad,” Derek murmured, knocking the tissue box from his bedside table onto the bed and cleaning himself off. “But if you ever have trouble sleeping again...

“I know where to go,” Stiles finished, laughing quietly. He did sound drowsy now, as opposed to keyed up and Derek couldn't help but feel a tiny bit of pride grow in his chest. “Before I head out, can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.” Now that the post-orgasm haze had started to clear, the thought of what Stiles was about to ask him made his entire body grow tense with nerves. 

“I know you've got those papers due next week, but did you wanna maybe come over sometime? Like, a date, I guess, but at my place.” 

“Yeah. That sounds great,” Derek said, taking his phone off speaker and rolling back over onto his side. “When I find out what I work, I'll let you know.” 

“Awesome. 'M gonna go to sleep now. Thanks Der.” 

“Goodnight Stiles.” Derek hung up and tossed his phone onto the other pillow. It had been a long, eventful day and he was too damn tired to bother finding his charger. He was too tired to even really _think_ , which was actually a blessing and although he knew he'd regret it in the morning, he fell asleep without even getting up to brush his teeth.

&. 

When he woke up the next morning, mouth and eyes dry and sore, he had a new voicemail. He assumed that it was from Stiles so he turned the speaker on and let it play while he kicked the blankets off and went searching for his discarded sweatpants from the night before. 

_”Good morning baby bro!”_

That _definitely_ wasn't Stiles. 

“ _So Erica called me late last night and told me that you've got a new boy in your life. Congrats! She said he had a strange name, Stiles or something, she wasn't sure, although she said that she could hear you yelling it in your room last night while she was trying to sleep. But anyways, I'm happy for you Derek, keep setting a good example for the younger ones. Love you!”_

Derek had a feeling that he wasn't going to be able to face Erica (or Laura, or Isaac for that matter) without getting mercilessly teased for at least a month and admittedly, he probably deserved it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'write phone sex' my brain said. 'it'll be fun!' I don't think I've ever blushed more writing any scene, ever.
> 
> Glossary of terms for this chapter:
> 
> O mój Boże = Oh my God.  
> kurwa = fuck.  
> tak = yes.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry that it took me so damn long to get this chapter out! it was meant to be much longer and contain more smut but I wanted to give you lovely, patient readers something. I promise that the wait next time won't be so darn long.

For the rest of the weekend, Derek barely talked to Stiles, aside from a brief text exchange to say that, based on Derek's work schedule and classes, the best day for their date would be the following Saturday. The day worked for Stiles too; along with confirming that however, he sent Derek a photo message around noon on Saturday. 

**Stiles, 12:08PM:** thanks for last night. I don't think i've slept that good in months 

In the picture, Stiles was still lying in bed, his eyes a little bleary with traces of sleep, a crooked smile on his lips and his bare shoulders visible above the line of his blanket. There were more moles there, dotting his skin like drops of ink and Derek wanted to touch every last one of them. 

But, although his body wanted to be occupied by more exciting ventures, his brain was well aware of the fact that, for the moment, he had more important things to focus on; namely, his essays. 

By the time he polished them off late Sunday night (or, really, early Monday morning), his brain was so boggled that he couldn't think about anything at all. It was only the next afternoon, after he'd passed the first one in, that he actually had the mental capacity to really think about the Stilinski twins again. Surprisingly, it didn't take him too long to come to a conclusion. 

He liked Stiles. He _really_ liked Stiles, and not just because he was gorgeous and made the most wonderful noises Derek had ever heard. He liked him because he was kind of a goof who still seemed to have his heart and head in the right place. He liked him because he was considerate and thoughtful and truthfully, Derek had never met someone who had all those qualities at once. But although he hadn't heard Stiles bringing up anyone else, he still hadn't been certain about if Stiles actually wanted something serious, something definable or if he just wanted to screw around. 

But the words _he really likes you_ , spoken in Stuart's voice, refused to leave his head and the fact that Stiles had actually asked Derek on another date, to his house, seemed to be another sign that pointed towards the 'relationship' direction. 

Derek really hoped that it wasn't just his imagination acting up, because he _really_ wanted to follow Stiles in that direction. 

But there was also Stuart, with his beanies and his glasses and that goddamn _wink_ of his, with his recklessness and gestures that looked like they were copied straight from a porno flick. 

Simply put, Stuart was temptation personified, with one hell of a sinful mouth to boot. It wasn't going to be easy to shake him off but Derek had been around long enough to know that sometimes, you had to give up something that was good for a chance at something better. 

And besides, there was still the fact that Stuart had been watching him and Stiles. Admittedly, that notion didn't really bother Derek; rather, it took him down a path that led to some fantasies he felt even Erica would have been shocked by. But outside the depths of his brain, he had no idea how to realistically handle those fantasies. He was certain that there was absolutely no appropriate way that he could bring them up to Stiles, ever, and he wasn't sure if he really wanted to sit down with Stuart and ask him for more detail, ask him to completely clarify why he'd been watching Derek and Stiles make out.

Sure, there _were_ a few positive possibilities that could have come from asking him to clarify, but most of the possibilities Derek could foresee were negative and frankly, it wasn't something he wanted to risk, no matter how badly those positive possibilities made his brain light up. 

So, his decision was final. The next time he saw Stuart, he would break it off, end it before he got embroiled even further in a situation that he was sure most people would classify as certifiably fucked up. 

He was fairly certain it was for the best.

&.

His first shift of the week was on Tuesday evening and for the most part, Derek stayed at the front desk. It was a relatively dead night; most of the occupants of the library were studying and those who were taking out books were generally veering off towards the self check-out machines, rather than coming to see him. As a result, he wasn't paying a whole lot of attention to anything beyond the computer he was working on and it was only when he heard a cough that he realized that Stuart was standing in front of him, arms crossed on the smooth surface of the counter. His glasses were slightly askew and the top two buttons on his blue shirt were popped open, exposing the long, pale line of his throat. 

“Hey Derek,” he said, his voice low, lips quirked into a slight smirk. “Are you doing anything later tonight?” He leaned in closer as he spoke, until Derek swore he could feel Stuart's breath lightly brushing over his cheek. 

“We need to stop.” Admittedly, although Derek _had_ planned on saying those exact words to Stuart whenever he next saw him without Stiles by his side, they hadn't been the first words in his carefully planned-out speech. But maybe being blunt was the best thing he could do; it made it less likely that he would get drawn back in by Stuart's clever mouth. 

Come to think of it, that trait was something the twins shared: their mouths were, without a doubt, their most dangerous weapons.

Although the smirk dissolved off of his face, Stuart looked remarkably unshaken. He stood up straight so that he was no longer leaning on the counter and pushed his glasses back up his nose.

“Alright,” he said, shrugging once, sliding his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans. “That's fine. And it's probably a good idea anyways.” He turned slightly, as if to walk away, but then he twisted back, one of his eyebrows quirked up. 

“Are you going to tell Stiles about us?” he asked and truth be told, Derek didn't have a damn clue how to answer. He knew that one day, probably sooner rather than later, he would have to bring it up; he may have been good at keeping secrets, but that didn't mean he _wanted_ to keep them. He didn't want to start a relationship grounded in any form of deceit or lies. 

“I don't know,” he said after a moment, sighing thankfully when he realized a young girl was coming up behind Stuart, her arms laden with a stack of thick books. “Are you?” Stuart shrugged again and ran a hand through his tousled hair, his face nearly impossible to read. 

“I don't know either. We'll see,” he replied, sounding like they were discussing something that was no more interesting than a grocery list. With that, he completed his turn and walked away, although Derek didn't miss the grin he shot the girl behind him. Once he had vanished out the doors of the library, Derek let out a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding and turned his attention towards the girl.

&.

The rest of the week was fairly boring, all things considered. Derek handed in his second paper Wednesday morning and managed to pick up a few more hours at the library on Thursday evening. On that night, there was another staff member covering the front so Derek got to spend most of his time reshelving books and since most classes were just finishing up their midterm projects, there were a massive amount of books that needed to be put back in their proper spots. 

He was on his second cart load when he almost literally ran into Stiles. Admittedly, Derek hadn't been paying as much attention as he could have been; the shelves were fairly empty of students, since most of them were in the study cubicles or at the tables and his mind may have been drifting a bit towards his Saturday date with Stiles and the possibilities it held. 

"Kurwa! Jesus Derek, you scared the hell out of me!” 

That was when Derek looked up and realized that Stiles had appeared in front of him, panting slightly. He was holding two fairly thick books in his hands and although Derek recognized the words on the spines as Polish, he had absolutely no idea what the titles meant. 

“Sorry Stiles, I wasn't looking up. Are those for school or just because?” he asked, nodding his chin towards the books. 

“Oh, just because. I wanna stay fluent, it makes talking to my babcia way easier.” Before Derek could respond, Stiles set his books down on top of the cart and stepped around it so that he was standing in front of Derek, a slightly nervous looking smile on his face. 

“So, I know that you're working right now and that our date isn't until Saturday, but can I still kiss you, like just for a sec?” Derek didn't bother answering with words; he simply let go of the cart and stepped into Stiles' space, pressing his hand against Stiles' neck as he leaned in for a kiss. Stiles responded instantly; his fingers groped out and tightened around Derek's waist and his hip bumped into the side of the cart, making a book fall off of it. After a moment, his tongue just barely flicked against Derek's top lip and in response, Derek gently nipped at Stiles' mouth. It was a short kiss but nonetheless, when Derek pulled away, he could feel a foolish smile threatening to spread across his face. Stiles didn't look like he had tried to hold his back at all; he was smiling from ear to ear and it was such an earnest grin that Derek couldn't hold his own back any longer. 

“That was fucking awesome,” Stiles said and Derek couldn't help but snort. Awesome was putting it lightly. “Makes me wonder how good Saturday is gonna be.” 

“I'll try to make it worth your while,” Derek said and he hadn't _meant_ to make the words sound so charged with implications but Stiles certainly didn't seem to mind. He simply groaned and dove back in for another kiss, pressing Derek against the shelves and letting his backpack drop to the floor. Derek gave as good as he got; the hand that wasn't still pressed to Stiles' neck slid around to the back pocket of Stiles' jeans and he couldn't resist squeezing lightly. Based on the groan Stiles let out and the way his hips pressed forward, the action didn't go unnoticed. When they finally broke apart, Derek was in desperate need of oxygen and his lips felt just the slightest bit swollen. 

“I have to get back to work,” he managed to say, nose still brushing against Stiles', not really wanting to extricate himself from the younger man's limbs. “But I'll see you Saturday night, okay?” 

“Oh, you will _definitely_ be seeing me Saturday,” Stiles murmured and the wanton look in his amber eyes when he flicked his gaze back up made Derek's throat go dry. He pressed one last kiss to Derek's mouth before he scooped up his backpack and books and disappeared around the corner. Once his footsteps had faded away, Derek couldn't help but sag against the bookshelves, his head tilted back and resting against a very thick textbook. 

He knew that he had plenty of things that still needed to be resolved, issues that needed to be worked out before his head would be completely clear. But at the present moment, all of those thoughts and issues felt like they were decades away. The grin still hadn't left his face and a chuckle escaped his mouth as he stepped away from the shelf and picked up the book that Stiles had knocked off the cart. 

Saturday couldn't come fast enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ps: I promise, the endgame of this story is still Stuart/Derek/Stiles. everything will become quite clear in the next few chapters. (:
> 
> Translations:
> 
> kurwa = fuck  
> babcia = grandmother.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, this chapter was supposed to have more at the end of it, but it got longer than I expected, plus I like where it ended off. (: as a result, next chapter might be a little filler-y but since it's going to be short, it'll be out very soon. (:

Derek's Friday night shift went by with no sign of either of the Stilinski twins. Actually, he hadn't seen hide nor hair of Stuart since Tuesday night, which he had to admit was a good thing; it certainly made the situation a lot easier. He could only hope that things stayed easy through his Saturday night date with Stiles; since he hadn't said anything to the contrary, Derek assumed that Stuart would be home as well. 

He tried to keep himself occupied Saturday morning and afternoon, but that was easier said than done. Erica was still bugging him about the phone sex incident with Stiles and although Derek didn't think he was someone who was easily embarrassed, some of the things that had come out of her mouth were bad enough to make him flush scarlet. And although Laura hadn't actively said anything to him on any of their phone calls since, he could still hear it in her voice, could hear her amusement clear as day. He could only ignore that for a few moments before he hung up and tried to focus on some schoolwork. 

Even when he actually tried to draw out the process of getting dressed and making himself look halfway decent, he was ready by six o'clock, an hour before he was supposed to meet Stiles. While he was sure that Stiles wouldn't mind him showing up early, that wasn't the point. He didn't want to appear too eager, didn't want it to be _completely_ obvious that he was absolutely gone on the guy. 

And besides, if he showed up early, the chances of him having an awkward interaction with Stuart were higher and even if interacting with the guy was inevitable, Derek wanted to put it off for as long as possible. 

So he plunked himself down on the living room couch beside Erica, who seemed to be paying more attention to her phone than to the textbook she had lying open in her lap. There was some cooking show playing on the television and Derek tried to focus on it, hoping it would distract him from the nervous thoughts in his brain. 

That lasted all of ten minutes before Erica shut her book and smacked him in the knee with it. 

“What the hell was that for?”

“Derek, your leg is jiggling so hard that I can't freaking think,” she replied. “He's not gonna care if you're early, for the love of God, go get it out of your system.” Derek opened his mouth to say something (although he wasn't quite sure _what_ he was going to say) but before he could speak, Erica poked him _hard_ with the corner of the textbook. 

“Derek, _go!_ ”

&.

The streets were fairly busy, despite the fairly cool temperature; as he got closer to the university, he passed a few house parties that were just starting up, complete with loud thudding music and people spilling out onto lawns covered in half-dead grass. Thankfully, the other occupants of the Stilinski's building apparently had other things to do than party; while Derek could hear some chatter coming out of various open windows, the building was much quieter than most that he'd passed. To Derek's surprise, Stiles was sitting at the top of the stairs, tapping away at his phone, dressed in jeans and a dark hoodie, hair slightly disheveled. Derek had just reached the bottom of the steps when he looked up and grinned, stashing his phone in his pocket. 

“Hey Der,” he said, standing up and stretching his arms above his head. The action made his hoodie rise up far enough for Derek to see the dark trail of hair leading from Stiles' navel to the waistband of his pants and between that sight and Stiles' unexpected use of his nickname, he had to take a moment to bring moisture back into his dry throat. 

“Hey. Sorry I'm early, I-”

“It's alright man. Actually, it's pretty good timing, I ordered Chinese food and it should be here soon. Is that alright? If not, we can totally go get something else, I don't mind, Stuart can have it-” 

“Stiles, Chinese sounds great,” Derek said, finishing his walk up the stairs so that he was on the landing. “Is that what you're waiting out here for?” 

“Yeah. Well, that, but mainly I was waiting for you.” Stiles leaned in and pecked him on the lips, pulling away before Derek could reciprocate. “Head on in, make yourself comfy, I'll bring the food in when it gets here.” 

“Okay.” 

The Stilinski's apartment wasn't large, but it had a distinct sense of coziness. The front door opened onto a short hallway crowded with sneakers and backpacks, with an overflowing closet on one side. There was a doorway on the left that opened up into the living room and after he kicked off his boots, Derek headed in and sat on the couch, trying to ignore the awkward feeling that always seemed present whenever he entered someone else's home for the first time. 

The walls were covered in framed photos and posters for movies and bands and there was a fairly large television mounted on the wall opposite the couch. The stand underneath it was crammed full of cases, for DVDs and video games alike. There was an open door behind him, which led into the kitchen as far as Derek could tell, and off to the side, there was another door, which was closed. This, Derek assumed, was the bedroom and just like that, rather explicit images started swarming into his brain. 

He _really_ needed to get his mind under control.

Thankfully, before he could get too invested in his imagination, the front door opened, bringing with it the scent of food. There was a quick set of thuds as the door closed (and, Derek assumed, as Stiles kicked his shoes off into the wall) and then Stiles came into view, precariously balancing an absurd amount of bags and containers in his arms. 

“Is all of that for us?” Derek asked as Stiles began dropping everything onto the battered coffee table sitting in front of the couch. 

“Hey, I'm still growing,” Stiles replied with a shrug. “Don't know about you, but I need all the energy I can get.” He dropped the last bag of food, tossed his hoodie onto the back of the couch and disappeared into the kitchen. 

“Stuart! Food's here!” he yelled over the noise of dishes clanging together.

“I'll get some later!” The words were slightly muffled from behind the bedroom door but nonetheless, they made Derek's stomach do something very strange. Although he'd known that Stuart was likely to be around, he'd _really_ been hoping that Stiles' twin would have found something else to do that would have gotten him out of the house, at least for some of his date with Stiles.

“Well, first come first serve,” Stiles said, shrugging as he dropped a paper plate into Derek's lap and plopped down beside him. “If he doesn't come out of there before we eat it all, it's his loss.” 

“What's he doing anyways?” Derek asked, glancing sideways at the closed door while Stiles started loading up his plate with a smorgasbord of rice and noodles. 

“He's got an essay due Monday,” Stiles answered, showing no sign that he found Derek's query out of the ordinary. “Normally I'd try to help him, and probably get told to fuck off for my troubles, but it's for the one class we're not taking together this semester so he's on his own.” He shrugged and used a set of chopsticks to shove part of his mountain of food into his mouth. 

“So don't mind him if he's being pissy,” he continued, already digging more food out of the containers. “I told him to go to the library if he needed to concentrate but he refused to leave.” 

Derek couldn't help but have a suspicion that his presence had something to do with that.

&.

Derek ate until he felt like he was going to burst and even then, Stiles kept going. It wasn't exactly a pretty sight but he was still impressed at just how much the younger man packed away, with nothing to show for it on his lithe frame. 

“Yeah, having a fast metabolism fucking rocks,” Stiles said, finally dropping his chopsticks onto his empty plate. 

“What?” Stiles rolled his eyes and stood up, collecting the empty containers in his arms. 

“You aren't as sneaky as you think, big guy. I saw you checking me out.” Before Derek could even attempt to formulate a response that sounded smooth rather than embarrassed, Stiles rolled his eyes again and pressed another peck high up Derek's cheek, just under the dip of his eye socket. 

“It's okay,” he murmured, softly dragging his lips around until they were just brushing over the shell of Derek's ear, “You can look _and_ touch, anytime you want to.”

Derek bit his lip and coughed, trying to clear his throat. When Stiles pulled away, he was grinning at him, a beaming thing that didn't look like it contained any elements of lust or desire. 

His eyes, however, told a completely different story. 

“I'll be right back, I'm just gonna clean up a bit. You can pick out a movie if you wanna watch one, or a video game. I'm totally fine with whatever you pick.” Still juggling the containers, he kissed Derek's cheek again before he stepped around the couch and into the kitchen. 

Before he could even begin to think about picking a movie, Derek needed to take a moment to get his bearings. He knew that he shouldn't have been getting so riled up over such a simple thing as Stiles' voice but he simply couldn't help it. He slumped back against the well-worn couch cushions and took a slow, deep breath, letting his eyes drop closed. 

Just as he began to breathe out, he heard the bedroom door open and just like that, even as the rational part of his mind whispered _bad idea Derek_ , his eyes flicked open and the breath whooshed out of his body. 

Although the door was open fairly wide, Derek could only glimpse the glow of a lamp and another poster on the blue-painted wall, because Stuart was still standing in the doorway. His head was tilted back and he was draining a carton of orange juice, making the tendons in his neck stand out. His chest was bare and hard as he tried to, Derek couldn't quite tear his eyes away. Stuart had less moles dotting his skin but he had the same kind of muscle tone as Stiles and, like his twin, there was a trail of thick dark hair starting below his belly button and continuing down into the gray sweatpants that were sitting low on his sharp hipbones. 

Just as he started lowering the carton, Derek whipped his head around and slid off the couch, kneeling in front of the television so that he could at least pretend to be looking for a movie. 

“Hey Derek,” Stuart said behind him and Derek turned his head slightly so that he could just see Stuart out of the corner of his eye. “Looking for something to watch?”

“Yeah,” Derek said, his throat painfully dry. “How's the essay going?” 

“Fucking awful,” Stuart replied, sounding strangely happy despite the words coming out of his mouth. “Just coming out to refuel and then the living room is yours for the rest of the night.” Derek turned just a little more, mouth open with a response but just as his eyes met Stuart, the younger man fucking _winked_ and Derek whipped back around, clenching his jaw, knowing that he wasn't imagining the low chuckle behind him. Thankfully, that sound was quickly followed by Stuart's muted footsteps on the carpeted floor as he headed into the kitchen. There was more clanging around, punctuated by Stiles and Stuart speaking rapidly in Polish. Derek couldn't pick out a single familiar word and he knew he shouldn't have been listening anyways so he turned his attention back to the stacks of films before him. 

By the time there were more footsteps behind him, Derek had actually managed to pick out a movie. It was a horror film he'd seen before but that had been back in high school and although he remembered liking it, he couldn't really remember much detail about the thing. 

Seemed like as good a choice as any. 

“Dobranoc Derek.” 

“Dobranoc Stuart,” Derek replied and even though he knew his pronunciation of the word had been atrocious, he had more important things to worry about at the moment. Once he heard the bedroom door close again with a quiet _snick,_ he moved back onto the couch. But he had no time to ponder any of what had just happened; he'd barely gotten himself comfy again before Stiles was plunking a bowl of popcorn on the table and snatching the DVD from his hands. 

“Not a bad choice,” he said, tossing a handful of popcorn into his mouth as he set up the movie. “The gore effects are pretty good but that ending is so damn predictable, I was hoping they were going to do something a bit different and...” He trailed off and when he sat back down on the couch, he was smiling apologetically. 

“Sorry man. I'll save my dumb analysis for later.”

“I'd love to hear it.”

&.

As it turned out, Derek never heard Stiles' analysis of the film. For that matter, he didn't see or hear much of the movie in general. 

The opening credits had just finished rolling when Stiles closed the gap between them and pressed himself against Derek's side, legs stretched out onto the coffee table, popcorn apparently forgotten. Derek's arm had been resting on the back of the couch but after only a moment of consideration, he let it drop so that it was slung over Stiles' broad shoulders instead. The fabric of Stiles' t-shirt was well-worn and soft but it was nothing compared to the skin that began when the sleeve of the shirt ended. Even though his eyes were still focused on the movie, Derek's mind was completely elsewhere, focusing on the feeling of that skin underneath his fingertips, edging Stiles' sleeve up further, dragging his nail over a slightly raised bit that must have been an old scar. When he pressed on the scar a little firmer, Stiles groaned and turned his face towards Derek's shoulder. His breath was warm even through Derek's henley. 

“Thought you wanted to watch a movie,” he said unsteadily, the words slightly muffled. 

“I can stop,” Derek said, halting the movement of his fingers. Truthfully, he hadn't really meant to start anything; it'd just been difficult to help himself from touching Stiles in some way, but he was more than happy to just watch a movie with the younger man.

“No.” This time, there was no unsteadiness in Stiles' voice; he pulled his head away from Derek's shoulder and sat up straight, pressing himself harder against Derek's side. “Don't do that. Not unless you want to.” 

“I don't,” Derek said quietly and when he turned his head, Stiles was looking at him, his eyes darkened, lips parted and practically begging to be kissed. 

“I don't want to stop touching you. I don't know if I _can_ ,” he continued, only vaguely aware that someone was being murdered on the screen, that he had pushed the sleeve of Stiles' shirt up to his shoulder so that he had more skin to touch. Quick as a whip, Stiles pulled his legs off of the coffee table and flung one over Derek's lap, pulling himself up until his knees were pressed into the cushions on either side of Derek. One of his elbows smacked into Derek's ribs but somehow, that made the action more endearing, made it more _Stiles_ in nature and less like something Stuart would do. 

“Derek, I already told you, you can touch me all you want,” he sighed, his fingertips pressing into Derek's shoulders, mouth so damn close. “Just so long as I can touch you too.” His hands smoothed down over Derek's chest to his waist, long fingers dancing along the hem of his shirt.

This was a bad idea. Even though he'd said earlier that he didn't plan on leaving the bedroom for the rest of the night, Derek knew that Stuart could still come out at any moment, for any number of reasons. The position him and Stiles were in was compromising enough and Derek knew that if he didn't stop now, things were only going to get more heated. 

But would Stuart really interrupt them? Somehow, Derek didn't think so. Maybe he _would_ open the door at some point, just a crack, just enough for him to see out of. Maybe Stuart would press his eye as close to the crack as his glasses would allow. Maybe one hand would be gripping the doorframe and the other one would be-

Derek surged upwards and kissed Stiles, harder than he'd intended, aware that he was already hard and pressing against the rough denim of his jeans. Stiles responded with equal fervor; his hands pulled away from Derek's waist and wound into his hair instead, pressing Derek's head back against the couch. His mouth was warm and welcoming and his enthusiasm was fucking contagious and Derek gave as good as he got. When he dragged his nails down Stiles' back, Stiles' entire frame _shuddered_ and his teeth pressed into the soft flesh of Derek's bottom lip like he was trying to leave a permanent mark. 

It was sloppy, the kind of kisses Derek hadn't experienced since high school but even when their teeth banged together, the bolt of pain hardly registered in his brain, because he was too busy chasing after Stiles' mouth again. His hips were rolling down against Derek's in an off-beat rhythm and Derek tried his best to meet him, raising his hips off of the couch whenever he could think enough to do it. 

By the time Derek moved on to Stiles' neck, the younger man's shirt was hiked up nearly to his ribs and Derek's palms were spread on his lower back, pinkies just barely dipping under the waistband of his jeans. His breathing was staggered and the instant Derek dragged his teeth over the slope of his jawbone, he let out a low groan that was still loud enough to be heard over the noise of the movie. 

“Gotta be quiet,” Derek managed to say, pressing another kiss against Stiles' jaw. “Stuart-”

“Don't worry about him,” Stiles panted, his hips rolling down again and this time, it was Derek who was groaning. “He's probably got headphones in, won't be able to hear a goddamn thing. And if he _does_ hear us...” He leaned down and dragged his teeth along Derek's jaw until his mouth was pressed against his ear. 

“I don't give a fuck.” 

Derek knew that Stiles' answer should have made him take pause; after all, it _was_ kind of a strange reaction to have to the possibility of your brother hearing you screw around with someone. But the fact was that Stiles was so goddamn warm against him and his clever mouth was running over his pulse point and he just felt so _good_ that Derek couldn't really think about anything other than touching Stiles more. 

If Stiles was okay with the possibility of them being overheard, he was okay with it too. 

It couldn't have been more than five minutes later before Stiles pulled away from another round of kissing and yanked his shirt over his head, throwing it towards the television. His chest was dotted with tiny dark moles and Derek immediately took advantage of the new canvas before him. He ran his mouth along the ridge of Stiles' collarbone, dragged his thumbs through the thick hair underneath his belly button and noise after beautiful noise fell from Stiles' mouth. When, after a brief moment of hesitation, he just barely scraped his teeth over Stiles' nipple, he shuddered again and his back arched perfectly against Derek's palms. 

“Fuck Derek, please, nie przestawaj,” he groaned and when Derek repeated the action, Stiles made a noise almost like a sob and twisted his fingers in Derek's hair. 

When Derek took a moment to lean back and just look, just stare at the gorgeous man before him, Stiles only stayed still for a moment before he was diving back in, pressing his teeth into Derek's shoulder, leaving a mark that Derek knew would be purple and red by the time he got back home. When he wasn't biting or licking or kissing, he was speaking. A torrent of Polish and English passed through his lips in a low murmur and he effortlessly dropped in and out of the languages in a way that went straight to Derek's aching cock. 

“O mój Boże, you're amazing Derek, so przystojny, need more, _kurwa_ , prosze,” he panted.

“Jesus, Stiles,” Derek groaned, not resisting the urge to slide his hands down the back of Stiles' jeans. The angle was a little awkward for his wrists but it left him with only one thin layer of clothing between his palms and the warm skin of Stiles' ass. “I want to touch every inch of you, still wouldn't be enough, never be enough.” Stiles let out a noise very close to a whimper and abruptly slid off of Derek's lap, clambering to his feet. His hands shot down to fumble with his belt and almost as soon as he'd gotten the buckle open, his jeans fell to the floor, puddling around his feet. 

“Stiles?” As much as Derek really appreciated the view, appreciated the way that Stiles' plaid boxers were just barely covering his erection, a little bit of reality managed to shine its way into his clouded brain. He definitely wanted to sleep with Stiles, there was no doubt about that, but his idea of their ideal first time hadn't really been on a couch, with Stuart only feet away. That just seemed to be courting disaster in so many ways. 

“S'okay Derek,” he said, kicking out of his jeans and clambering back into Derek's lap. Derek could feel the warmth from Stiles' long, bare limbs bleeding through his clothing and he felt that last shred of reality rapidly disappearing from his mind. 

“I don't want you to fuck me, not here. But still, too many clothes. Needed to feel you more.” His words were slurring together and when he leaned in to mouth at Derek's neck again, Derek could feel the head of Stiles' cock pressing against his stomach, fever-warm and slightly wet even through his shirt. 

Just like that, the (admittedly few) reservations Derek had left flew out the window. He still didn't plan on fucking Stiles but he _needed_ to do something before he combusted. He waited until Stiles had pulled away from his neck before he gripped the back of the younger man's thighs and twisted his own body. Things didn't go as smoothly as he intended but after only a few moments of awkward shifting around, Stiles was underneath him, long legs wrapped around his back, heels pushing at the waistband of his jeans. 

“Do you want them down?” Derek asked, his forehead braced against Stiles', hands roaming wherever they could reach in the cramped space. For all intents and purposes, the couch was really too small for what they were doing but for the moment, Derek was too far gone to care. 

“I'd like them better if they were off but yeah, down, that works,” Stiles panted, grinning before he leaned up to capture Derek's mouth again. His hands roughly shoved between their stomachs and his long fingers quickly made short work of the button and zipper on Derek's jeans. Soon enough, between the relentless pushing of Stiles' heels and Derek's own attempts to get them down, his jeans were down past his ass and he stifled a groan on Stiles' tongue as his cock brushed against Stiles'. 

All things told, Derek knew that he should have classified the whole thing as one of the more awkward sexual encounters he'd ever participated in. Although his jeans were down far enough for him to revel in the fucking amazing feeling of Stiles' cock dragging against his (even if it was through two layers of boxers), they were still far more constricting than he would have liked. He was constantly aware of how close his knee was to the edge of the couch cushion and aware that one wrong movement would be all it took to send them both sprawling to the floor. 

And then, there was the door. 

At first, Derek didn't think it was anything more than the couch creaking; after all, with the way Stiles was panting and cursing and groaning against his mouth, Derek could hardly hear the movie playing only a few feet away. But a moment later, when Stiles rolled his hips up particularly hard and bit down on Derek's shoulder, Derek heard the noise again. 

Even without turning his head or halting the movement of his hips, he knew that what he had heard was the bedroom door opening.

But despite all of those things, even though their background noise consisted of women screaming and pickaxes swinging into flesh on the television, the whole thing was still one of the best experiences of his life. Even if Derek could never really get his hips to fall into a steady rhythm with Stiles', the younger man's enthusiasm more than made up for any finesse they may have been lacking. 

The waistband of Stiles' boxers had slid down long ago so when Stiles came, it was onto his stomach and the hem of Derek's shirt. The noise he made was completely _wrecked_ , all hoarse and high at the same time. His fingers bit into Derek's shoulders and Derek could feel every muscle in his own body coiling up, ready to lock before releasing. He was close, so damn close and when Stiles leaned up towards his ear, lips parted and eyes half-closed, Derek knew that whatever Stiles was about to say to him was going to be enough to send him over the edge.

“I wish you were coming inside of me.” 

He didn't so much go over as he _plummeted_ from it. He knew that his henley was going to be completely unsalvageable and that he was spurting onto Stiles' flat stomach but he just couldn't focus on anything that wasn't directly related to the lightning bolts of pure pleasure running through his body. After a few moments, the tension left his muscles and he had to stop himself from simply dropping down onto Stiles, who was running his fingers through his hair and murmuring in Polish against his neck. His throat felt raw and when he ran his tongue along his teeth, he could faintly taste blood. His entire body felt tired and he couldn't help but sigh quietly before he cradled Stiles' face in his warm palms and kissed him slow, like he had all the time in the world. 

While he was dragging his tongue against Stiles', he heard the bedroom door close.

&.

By the time Derek summoned enough energy (and willpower) to extract himself from Stiles' long limbs, the DVD had been cycling through the menu screen for at least ten minutes. His shirt was stuck to his stomach and he was sure parts of his hair were matted with sweat but overall, he felt too damn good to care. 

“Well, I guess I'll have to tell you my analysis some other time,” Stiles said, sitting up onto his knees and grabbing his shirt from the floor so that he could wipe off his stomach. “Basically, I like you _way_ better than that movie.”

“Well, I'm glad to hear that,” Derek chuckled, watching as Stiles cleaned himself off before he threw the shirt back onto the floor. Stiles' skin was dotted with tiny hickies, blooming on his chest and on the column of his neck and as his eyes swept up to Stiles' face, Derek realized the younger man's skin was flushed red and getting darker by the second. 

“Am I still allowed to look?” he asked, absently reaching out and wiping a speck of come off of Stiles' hipbone. Stiles nodded and a bead of sweat rolled from his hairline down his cheek. 

“Tak,” he said quietly. “I mean, yeah. Anytime, Derek. Just so long as I can return the favor.”

“Anytime, Stiles.” Before Stiles could respond, a yawn abruptly broke from his mouth and he stifled it against his arm. 

“I'm tired,” he said after he had finished yawning, stretching his arms above his head. One of his hands dropped down and rubbed absently against one of the hickies dotting his throat and on cue, Derek felt the bite marks on his own shoulders throb.

He would have to make sure he covered his marks up until they healed a bit, or Erica would never let him hear the end of it. 

“Me too,” Derek replied, unable to hold back a yawn of his own. “I guess I should probably head home soon, before it gets too late.” 

“Yeah, maybe,” Stiles sighed. “I should probably get some studying done, but I think I'm gonna sleep instead.” He stood up, pulled his jeans back on and grabbed his hoodie off the back of the couch. “Stuart's probably gonna be in a bitch until he's finished that paper so I'm gonna sleep out here until he's finally done it.” Once he zipped his hoodie up, he leaned over and pressed his mouth against Derek's, making a warm, content noise in the back of his throat. 

Even though it was short and sweet, Derek still found it very difficult to keep from pulling Stiles back down onto the couch.

&.

Although Derek could hear the faint sounds of bass-heavy music a few blocks away, the street was still quiet enough to hear every creak of the stairs under their feet. It was a cool night and as the breeze picked up slightly, Derek realized that all he could smell on himself was sex. 

He was fairly certain that wasn't something he was supposed to be happy about. 

“Thanks for coming over,” Stiles said once they'd reached the bottom of the steps, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans. “It was... Derek, that was definitely one of the best nights of my life. We're talking top five. Maybe even top three.” 

“Mine too,” Derek said. “And I don't think I've been this tired out since...”

“Since last Saturday?” Stiles raised one eyebrow and took a step closer, taking his hands out of his pockets so that he could smooth them down Derek's jacket. 

“Yeah, actually.” Stiles grinned and even though he did look tired, there was a glint in his eye, a glint Derek recognized all too well that made him swallow hard. 

“Good. I plan on tiring you out just as often as you'll let me.” Stiles pressed a lingering kiss to the corner of Derek's mouth, a kiss that felt like it spread through his entire body, before he stepped back onto the stairs. 

“Dobranoc, Derek,” he said and when Derek returned the words, his pronunciation was only slightly better than it had been earlier, when he'd been returning the words to Stuart. 

He took his time on the walk home, only marginally paying attention to the streets around him, too busy combing through the thoughts that he'd been attempting to ignore for most of the night. 

He had thought that ending the thing between himself and Stuart would have made things at least a little bit easier. But although Stuart hadn't really hit on him or anything (aside from that goddamn wink), Derek was certain that he had heard the bedroom door creak open while he'd been with Stiles. While he couldn't be certain that the images his imagination had provided him with were accurate, he couldn't help but remember the sight of Stuart standing at the top of the outside stairs, his hand palming himself while Derek made out with Stiles. 

If he'd done it once, why wouldn't he do it again? More importantly, _why_ was he doing it? 

Maybe it could have been a fantasy thing, like Stuart was imagining himself in Stiles' place, but after only a few moments, Derek realized that couldn't be the answer. It simply didn't make any sense; why would Stuart have to imagine that when he'd already experienced it? 

By the time he reached campus, Derek had combed through dozens of possibilities and come to the conclusion that, maybe, the simplest answer was the correct one. Maybe Stuart just got off on it, on watching Stiles make out with someone else. 

If that was the case, had he done it before Derek had come along? Would it be a good idea to tell Stiles about Stuart watching them?

More importantly, did Stiles _already_ know?

By the time he got back to his own apartment, Derek was no closer to coming up with answers to any of these questions. In fact, as he shed his clothes and collapsed on his bed (thankful that both of his younger siblings were still out), he had only come up with more. 

What Stuart had done was undoubtedly an invasion of privacy, both of his and Stiles'. Even though Derek had had a number of dreams that featured the three of them together (in so many different arrangements), fantasies and reality were completely different. From an objective perspective, Derek knew that he should have found the entire situation very, very strange, if not completely unacceptable. 

So why couldn't he find it in himself to mind? Why was there such a large part of him that continued to _like_ the idea of Stuart watching them? Why couldn't he stop thinking of the possibility of Stuart _joining_ him and Stiles? 

By the time he fell asleep, he was no closer to answering those questions either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, major thanks are due to the lovely reader who has been assisting me with the Polish translations. (:
> 
> Complete list of terms used in this chapter (most are repeats):
> 
> Dobranoc = goodnight.  
> Nie przestawaj = don't stop.  
> O mój Boże = Oh My God.  
> Przystojny = handsome / gorgeous.  
> Kurwa = fuck.  
> Prosz = please.  
> Tak = yes/yeah.


	8. Chapter 8

When Derek finally woke up, sunlight was streaming directly into his eyes and someone was knocking very persistently at his bedroom door. It was highly unlikely that he would have a visitor on a Sunday morning and Isaac almost never knocked on his door, which meant that there was really only person it could be. He didn't really feel up to talking to Erica, not before he'd had coffee or put pants on but he knew that if he told her to just go away, she'd keep knocking or just barge in anyways. So, pulling his blanket up over his waist and turning his face into his pillow and away from the sunlight, Derek groaned _come in._

“We need food,” Erica said as she breezed through the door. “Did you wanna...” She abruptly stopped speaking and after a few moments, Derek's curiosity got the best of him and he turned his head again so he could see what had stopped her in her tracks. 

“What?” he muttered, squinting and wishing that he'd remembered to pull his curtains shut when he'd gotten in last night. 

“Derek, you _reek_ of sex,” she said matter of factly, crossing her arms over her chest and raising one of her eyebrows. “You gonna tell me what happened?”

“No.” 

“Fine. Get up and have a shower. We need to go grocery shopping and you are _not_ leaving the house smelling like that.” She sounded so much like Laura that Derek couldn't help but roll his eyes; maybe one day, his sisters would stop bossing him around, but he doubted it.

Erica left his door open and any chance of Derek getting more sleep went out the window; the television in the living room was blaring some talk show and somebody was washing dishes in the kitchen. It still took him ten minutes to gather enough energy to drag himself out of bed but just as he swung his feet over the edge of his mattress, his phone starting ringing. Mid-yawn, he accepted the call without really looking at the screen, certain that it was Stiles calling him. 

“Good morning,” he said, unable to stop a smile from appearing on his face.

That smile disappeared as quickly as it had arrived, because instead of being met with a sleepy sounding Stiles, Derek was greeted with a very distinctive peal of laughter. 

“Well good morning to you too, love puppy,” Laura said, laughing harder with each word she said. “Did you have a good date last night?” Before he could respond, Derek heard Laura's son speak up in the background.

“Mom, what's a love puppy?”

“That, honey, is what your uncle Derek is,” she replied and Derek groaned. It was way too damn early for this.

“Laura, I'm hanging up now.” 

“Call me back!” 

Although he thought about just going about his day and pretending that she hadn't called, Derek knew that it was probably better to just get the conversation over with. He'd been putting off telling Laura about Stiles for weeks and she was just getting more and more persistent. She was the queen of being stubborn and, much as Derek wished she would just drop the issue, he knew her better than that. So once he'd gotten out of the shower (and earned a thumbs up from Erica, for no longer smelling like sex), he dialed her number and wasn't surprised when she answered on the first ring. 

“If you say love puppy even once, I'm never speaking to you again,” he said, cutting Laura's greeting off. 

“That's a lie and you know it, but fine. I won't call you love puppy if you actually tell me about this Stiles guy you're sleeping with.”

“We're not technically sleeping together,” Derek groaned. He was already starting to regret calling Laura back. 

“But Erica told me that she heard you having phone sex. Very explicit phone sex, Derek.” 

“Yeah,” Derek sighed, because there was no point denying that fact. That had been his own damn fault, for getting too caught up in the moment. “And yeah we've done... stuff, but I still haven't _slept_ with him, Laura. I... I really like him. I'm not in any hurry to rush things.” 

“So you're _dating?_ ” Derek only hesitated for a few moments; if they had been having this conversation even a few days ago, he wouldn't have been sure how to answer the question. But now, the answer seemed pretty clear. 

“Yeah. I think we are,” he said and, without any warning, Laura let out a loud squeal that made Derek yank his phone away from his head. 

“Derek, I'm so happy for you! How old is he? What's he look like? Are you bringing him home for Christmas?”

Derek just groaned again. Even though his shower had woken him up, it was still too damn early for one of his sister's trademark interrogations.

&.

That Tuesday, Derek had to work the evening shift, which ended when the library closed at two o'clock in the morning. It had been a long day; he had slept in by accident and had spent his breaks in between classes attempting to catch up on readings and thesis work. He could only hope that his shift would go smoothly. 

He had just stepped behind the front counter and hadn't even looked at what there was to do for the evening when one of the guys who was coming off the afternoon shift appeared, emerging from the shelves pushing one of the (now-empty) carts they used for reshelving books. Even though it was the end of his shift, he looked more frazzled than relieved. 

“Derek, your boyfriend and his brother are fighting again,” he groaned, parking the cart and sliding around the counter so that he could sign out after Derek was done with the computer.

“He's not my...” The response had come to his lips automatically; it wasn't the first time one of his co-workers had teased him about Stiles. But this time, he managed to stop himself before he completed the sentence and he simply sighed as he finished logging in to the computer system. 

“Same place as always?” he asked. 

“Yeah. They aren't too bad yet but... well, you know how loud they get.”

“I definitely do,” Derek muttered under his breath. As soon as someone else arrived to cover the front, Derek set out through the shelves, towards Stiles' and Stuart's usual spot, at one of the tables between the English and French literature shelves. Unsurprisingly, he could hear them arguing almost as soon as he entered the Language section of the library; they weren't quite yelling at each other, but it was only a matter of time. Neither of them noticed him as he stepped out of the shelves. The other tables around them were all empty, although Derek didn't know if that was just luck or if people had started to clear out as soon as they had started in on each other. Their table was covered with an array of textbooks and pens and highlighters but it didn't look like they'd gotten any work done for some time. 

Stiles and Stuart were sitting opposite each other and strangely enough, they didn't actually look _angry_ . Stuart looked completely serious; there wasn't a hint of humor or flirtation on his face. It was an expression Derek had never seen on him before. Stiles looked _worried_ ; although Derek could only see his profile, his brow was furrowed and in between speaking, he was gnawing on his lip. He had a feeling that Stiles must have been doing it for some time; when he got closer, Derek saw that there was a tiny red smear at the corner of his mouth that looked suspiciously like blood.

“Jesteś pewny?” Derek could tell from his tone that Stiles had just asked a question, but he didn't recognize any of the words. 

“Tak, Stiles,” Stuart sighed, taking his glasses off and rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Mamy...” He trailed off, eyes going wide as they locked with Derek's but just as Stiles began to turn his head, Derek laid a hand on his shoulder. Stiles jumped in his seat and whipped his head around and in the second before his features composed themselves into something vaguely resembling calmness, Derek got a good glimpse at the emotion running across Stiles' face. 

_Panic._

“Are you two okay?” Derek asked, pulling his hand away, his stomach sinking. It may have been difficult to gauge emotion and tone through text messages but Stiles had sounded fine in all the texts he'd sent Derek over the last two days; maybe a bit stressed about school, sure, but not _panicked._

Had he somehow done something wrong? Why else would Stiles have jumped away from his hand like he'd been burned? 

“Yeah, we're fine,” Stiles said. He smiled up at Derek and reached for his hand, running his thumb over his knuckles. It felt nice on a surface level, but Stiles' smile didn't reach his eyes and his voice was wavering slightly. Derek could feel nervous energy flowing from Stiles' fingertips, like he was about to jitter out of his skin.

“It's just this damn project we're working on for World Cinema,” Stuart said, pushing his glasses back up his nose. His facade of calmness was more convincing, but Derek still saw the way Stuart's eyes lingered on where his fingers were still interlaced with Stiles' and he definitely didn't miss the way Stuart's throat bobbed, like he was trying to hold back words. “I think we should do it one way, but Stiles won't listen to my idea.”

“Because your idea is reckless,” Stiles hissed, his fingers tightening around Derek's almost to the point of pain, although Derek didn't really notice it. He was too busy replaying what Stiles had just said. His response to Stuart hadn't made any sense. How could an idea for a project be _reckless?_ It was obvious there was something else going on, something that wasn't just a project for class and Derek felt his stomach sink more and more with each passing second. 

“I'm sure Stuart's idea has some merit to it,” he said, hoping to God that his comment might diffuse some of the tension. He took a quick glance around, to make sure none of the other library workers were nearby, before he leaned down and pressed a kiss to Stiles' cheek. His mouth had hardly touched Stiles' warm skin before Stiles sighed and slumped in his seat, like all the tension had just drained out of him. His fingers tightened even more around Derek's and he made a small, barely there sound in the back of his throat. It only made Derek more confused; one moment, Stiles was acting like he was afraid of him and the next, he was clinging to him like a raft. 

Erica or Laura probably would have been able to figure out what was going on with just a glance or two, but frankly, Derek didn't have a fucking clue. 

“I have to get back to work,” he said, squeezing Stiles' hand once before he untangled their fingers. “Just try to keep it down, alright? I won't kick you out, but someone else might.”

“Przepraszam,” Stuart said and although he was smiling again, it was like the one Stiles had flashed only moments before; it didn't reach all the way to his eyes. 

For some reason, the fact that both of them were doing it just made Derek feel even sicker.

&.

At the very least, the twins seemed to have heeded his request to quiet down; an hour had gone by without any further complaints about the two of them, which Derek counted as a blessing. The front desk had been fairly busy, which meant he hadn't really been able to think further about how strangely the two of them were acting, but that didn't mean that the stone in his stomach had gone away. 

Things slowed down a little bit as the evening went on and soon enough, it was time for Derek to take a break. After weighing his options, he decided to go see the twins again, just to try and gauge the situation. Maybe they _were_ just stressed out about a project, something last minute that they'd both forgotten about; lord knew Derek could relate to that. 

But deep down, Derek knew better. There was something more serious than an annoying school project going on. He just wished he could figure out _what._

He had just rounded the shelves into the Languages section when he realized that Stuart and Stiles were coming towards him, backpacks over their shoulders, muttering to each other in Polish. There was definitely a smear of blood on Stiles' lip now, like he'd been biting it viciously for the past hour. Stuart's hair was sticking up in unruly patches, like he'd been twisting it with his fingers and both of them looked _tired._

“We were just coming to see you,” Stuart said when they got closer. Just above the bridge of his glasses, Derek could see a red spot on his nose, like he'd had been rubbing it constantly. “We're having a hard time concentrating here. Home might not be much better, but it's worth a shot.” 

“Okay,” Derek said, trying not to let suspicion leak into his voice. Stuart may have been a decent liar, but on this occasion, Derek simply couldn't believe his feigned casualness. 

“I'm gonna grab something from the snack machine before we leave. You want anything Stiles?” he asked. 

“Nah, I'm fine. Meet you down there,” Stiles said. Stuart shrugged and headed off in the direction of the elevators and vending machines. Derek didn't know if it was different lighting, but he realized that Stiles seemed even paler than usual, like he was getting sick. When he reached out and thumbed at the smear of blood around Stiles' ragged lips, he could feel that same nervous energy still running through his skin; it seemed to have actually gotten stronger and it was a wonder that Stiles wasn't shaking like an addict in withdrawal. 

“Stiles, are you sure you're alright?” he asked. He'd seen Stiles panicking about a project before, that night weeks ago when he'd stayed at the library with them until two in the morning. That Stiles moved quickly (but he wasn't jumpy), spoke even quicker, had wide eyes and flying fingers. 

The Stiles that was before him didn't have any of that. He had bags under his normally vivid eyes and when he spoke, it was with a slowness, a _weariness_ that Derek had never heard from his mouth.. 

“Yeah, I'm fine. Just stressed about school,” he sighed. He quirked his lips up and kissed Derek's thumb (which was still lingering at the corner of his mouth) before attempting to smile reassuringly and Derek could barely hold back the words _Stiles, why are you lying to me?_

Instead, he simply nodded and scratched another fleck of blood away before he let his hand drop back down. Even though it was obvious that school was _not_ the issue here (or at least not the main one), Derek had a feeling that pushing Stiles (or Stuart, for that matter) wasn't going to get him any more answers.

“Okay. Well, if you need any help, I can come over after work. Or I can call you when I'm done for the night, if you'll still be up.” 

“Yeah, maybe... Derek, there _is_ kind of something I need you to do for me.” 

“Anything,” Derek said quietly and even though warning bells were going off in his head with each moment that passed, it frightened him how much he meant it. For just a moment, Stiles' face changed; his features softened and his mouth curved into an _actual_ smile and it was all Derek could do to resist pulling him into the nearest unoccupied corner and kissing him until he was sure that smile was going to stick around.

But just as soon as it appeared, it vanished and the furrow in Stiles' brow came back with a vengeance. He hitched his bag higher up onto his shoulder and rummaged around in the front pocket of his jeans until he pulled out a small, unobtrusive looking memory stick. 

“There's a file on this that I need... that I _want_ you to look at. There's only the one, so you don't have go searching for it or nothing. Could you look at it tonight, when you're done?” Stiles looked like he was having a hard time getting the words out of his mouth; he kept stammering and tripping over syllables and somewhere along the line, he had bitten his lip again, causing another perfect dome of blood to sit on the corner of his mouth.

Derek didn't bother wiping the new blood away. He had a feeling it would just be replaced by more.

“Okay,” he finally managed to say through a throat the size of a pinhole. “Yeah, Stiles, I can do that.” He took the memory stick from Stiles' fingers, which were clammy with sweat. He had hardly put the thing in his pocket when Stiles took a step forward and practically slammed his lips against Derek's. His fingers seized the front of Derek's shirt in a grip so tight Derek was sure it was going to tear a hole in the fabric. He was very happy there was no one else around, because he kissed Stiles back with everything he had. Stiles' pulse was thumping underneath his hands and when Derek ran his thumb over one of the still-fading hickies on his throat, Stiles moaned against his mouth and pulled away with one last flick of his tongue against Derek's bottom lip. 

“I'll see you later Derek,” he said and when he disappeared back into the shelves, following Stuart's path, Derek was left with the taste of blood in his mouth and a distinct feeling that what Stiles had actually meant to say was _I'm sorry, Derek._

&. 

For the rest of his shift, the memory stick seemed to burn a hole in his pocket.

He tried to himself occupied so that he wouldn't think about it, but there were only so many books he could return to the shelves and only so many people who chose to visit the front desk rather than using one of the self checkout terminals. As a result, his mind kept straying back to it and on more than one occasion, when there really was nothing to do except make idle conversation with his coworkers, Derek considered plugging the memory stick into one of the computers in front of him, just to see what he was dealing with. 

But something in the back of his mind told him that might be a very, very bad idea. 

By the time the library closed and his shift came to an end, the anxious feeling in his stomach had spread to the rest of his body, making it feel like his entire body was one big live wire. He just barely remembered to sign off for the night before he took off, practically running through the near-empty streets. Thankfully, when he reached his apartment, the door was unlocked; he had no patience for dealing with keys at the moment. All he wanted to do was get to his room, shut the door and figure out what in the fuck had made Stiles so upset that he'd hardly been able to look Derek in the eye. 

“Derek, why are you slamming the door so goddamn hard?” Erica asked from the couch, apparently wide-awake despite the late hour. “You're gonna break the-”

“Erica, _not now_ ,” he snapped, kicking his boots off and wincing slightly as they slammed into the already dented wall beside the door. He barely registered the fact that Boyd was sitting beside Erica on the couch, looking over his shoulder and frowning slightly, or that the balcony door was open and the apartment faintly smelled of pot. He was barely even aware that he had snapped at Erica, but he still made a mental note to apologize to her. 

Later. After he'd seen the file. 

He pulled the door of his bedroom shut behind himself and immediately got tangled up as he tried to get his jacket off and yank the memory stick out of his pocket at the same time. Finally, he got the thing off and on the ground, while also managing to get the stick into his laptop without knocking anything off the desk. 

Stiles was right; there was only one file on the stick. It was a video file of just under ten minutes but aside from that, Derek couldn't tell anything else about it or its contents by just looking at it. There was no preview thumbnail and it didn't have a custom name, just a string of random letters and numbers that the computer had automatically assigned it. Derek supposed that it _was_ still possible that the video was related to school somehow; it would make sense for students studying film to make short movies of their own, after all. 

It made sense, but Derek knew that the video he was hovering his mouse over wasn't that. It couldn't be. 

The option of simply deleting the file, of pretending he'd never gotten it also occurred to him but he dismissed it almost immediately. Being in denial wasn't going to help the situation. The only thing he could do, the only thing that would shed _any_ light on the reason Stiles and Stuart were acting so strange, was before him, ready to be watched. 

Taking a deep breath (and plugging some headphones in, just in case), Derek opened the file and clicked _play_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry about the cliffhanger. I haven't written one of those in a loooooong time. 
> 
> Index of terms in this chapter: 
> 
> Jesteś pewny = Are you sure?  
> Tak = Yes.  
> Mamy = we.  
> Przepraszam = sorry.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that I left you all hanging for so long; this first week back to school has been pretty busy! this upcoming week looks like it's going to be much the same, but I'll try my absolute best to get you all a chapter sooner rather than later. 
> 
> speaking of which: if everything goes to plan (which it might not), there are only four chapters left in this story, with the possible addition of a separate timestamp fic afterwards.

The video started with laughter. 

There was something covering whatever camera had made the recording; for a few moments, the screen was simply black and there was nothing Derek could focus on except for the laughter. It sounded very familiar and as the obstruction over the camera was removed, Derek realized why. 

The camera was focused on a bed and Stiles was draped across it, wearing only a blue t-shirt that had ridden up his stomach and a pair of boxers with some print on them that Derek couldn't make out. His legs were splayed apart and one of his hands was resting on his hipbone, rubbing aimlessly. He was looking just above the camera and the smile on his face was broad and easy and he looked so damn _happy._

“Stu, what the hell are you doing?” he asked and there was a slur to his words that practically screamed tipsiness. One of his fingers just dipped below the waistband of his boxers and Derek swallowed hard as Stuart came into view on the screen. Based on his appearance, the video had to be at least a few months old; Stuart's hair was shorter and less disheveled and the frames of his glasses were thinner and not as dark. He was missing his shirt but he was wearing a pair of gray sweatpants that were very similar (or possibly even identical) to the pair he'd been wearing when Derek had been over at their apartment. 

“Filming us,” he answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world and while his voice was steadier than Stiles, he seemed to be swaying a bit as he walked. “You wanted to do that, right?” 

“Oh. Yeah,” Stiles said, his grin growing even wider. “ _Definitely_ wanted to do that.” 

“Good,” Stuart murmured and in the next moment, the suspicion Derek had been carrying in some part of his brain since Stiles had given him the memory stick, the fantasies that had been plaguing his mind for so many weeks, became a reality. 

Stuart climbed up onto the bed, bracketed himself between Stiles' still spread legs and began to kiss a path up Stiles' neck, starting at his collarbone and slowly moving upwards. Stiles' mouth dropped open and he tilted his head back against the pillow, his eyes drifting closed as he moaned and reached out for Stuart's hips. 

“You're fucking evil,” he groaned and although it was slightly muffled by Stiles' skin, Derek still heard Stuart chuckle, low and smooth in a way he'd heard so many times. 

Maybe that particular mannerism wasn't as calculated as Derek had believed. Maybe that was completely and utterly legitimate.

“Are you actually complaining, Stiles?”

“Does it _feel_ like I'm complaining, you idiot?” Stiles' fingers scratched at Stuart's back (which looked like it already had nail marks on it, although Derek supposed that could have been a trick of the somewhat dim light in the room). Stuart finished his path up his twin's neck and while it looked like he had another smartass comment sitting on the tip of his tongue, Stiles leaned up and kissed him before he could say anything else.

(Derek's hands were resting in his lap and he was only barely aware of the pain as he pressed his nails into the flesh of his palms hard enough to leave deep crescent shaped indents.)

Stiles' inherent restlessness, his constant need to be everywhere and touch every inch at once, was on full display; for the next minute or so of the video, hardly a moment didn't go by where he wasn't moving or shifting. His hands roamed up Stuart's bare back and into his hair, pulling it into a disheveled mess that was almost identical to the style he'd been sporting nearly every day that Derek had known him. Stiles' back was arched off of the sheets, pressing his hips up against his brother's and even though his rhythm seemed to be almost non-existent, Stuart didn't seem to mind. 

“ _Kurwa_, Stiles,” he gasped as he pulled away but Stiles just chased after him, pressing kisses that looked hard enough to bruise against his mouth and jaw and throat. 

“Yeah, that's the plan,” Stiles panted in between kisses, his hands pushing at the waistband of Stuart's sweatpants until they were halfway down his ass. “Fuck me.” 

“Greatest plan you've ever had,” Stuart replied before he captured Stiles' mouth again. With one hand, he fought with his pants until they were down around his knees; once they were to that point, he wriggled until they were hanging off his feet and he kicked them away. His movements must have created some amazing friction between them, because even with his mouth pressed against Stuart's, Derek could hear Stiles moaning and swearing. 

(The video was already half over and Derek's palms, red from his nails, were now pressed against his thighs, only inches away from where his cock was pressing against his jeans.)

The next time Stuart pulled away, he shoved Stiles' t-shirt up until it was above his ribs but before he could get it any further, Stiles managed to get his arms underneath Stuart and yank it over his head before he threw it across the room, nearly hitting whatever they were using to record. While he did that, Stuart leaned back onto his knees, hands reaching towards his face but before he could do anything, Stiles reached up and wrapped his long fingers around Stuart's wrists, stopping them in their tracks. 

(For a few brief seconds, all Derek could think about was how amazing it would feel to have those damn fingers pinning him down, holding him still until he was begging and ready to explode. His own fingers brushed over the zipper of his jeans, cock straining underneath the stiff fabric.)

“Please leave them on,” Stiles said, licking his lips, eyes locked with Stuart's. His entire body was flushed red, right down to the head of his cock, which was just barely peeking above the elastic of his boxers. “ _Proszę_ Stuart, proszę.” 

“Fine,” Stuart replied but if he was attempting to sound annoyed, he failed miserably. As he pushed his glasses further up his nose, Derek could see his throat bob up and down, like he was trying to bring moisture back into his desperately dry mouth. 

Derek was well aware of how Stiles (and Stuart, for that matter) could easily bring on that particular reaction.

Stiles leaned back up for another kiss but rather than meeting him halfway, Stuart pulled backwards, a smirk unfurling on his mouth. Eyes locked on Stiles' face, he slid down the bed slightly until his mouth was hovering over Stiles' stomach, nose brushing over the thick, dark hair trailing down to his boxers. 

“There's something I wanna do,” he said, voice so quiet that Derek barely caught the words. He brushed his lips over Stiles' navel before moving to pay attention to where his hipbones pressed against his skin. Although it was hard to tell with the angle Stuart was at, based solely on the way Stiles suddenly cried out and arched his back, Derek was fairly certain that Stuart was mixing bites in with the open-mouthed kisses he was pressing against his twin's skin. 

“Be careful, you're gonna break my glasses,” Stuart warned halfheartedly. He ran his palms along Stiles' thighs and up to his hipbones, pressing them down against the bed but that still didn't stop Stiles from arching upwards again when Stuart just barely touched his tongue to the head of Stiles' cock. 

“Oh _fuck_ ,” he groaned, his hands reaching out until they were covering Stuart's. “Proszę nie każ mi czekać.”

“But it's so much fun,” Stuart said quietly as he moved his mouth down further, pressing his tongue against Stiles through his boxers. “You just sound so fucking amazing when you beg.” 

(Two minutes left in the video and Derek gave up on holding himself back; he fumbled open the button and zip on his painfully tight jeans and shoved them down his hips just far enough for him to get a hand into his boxers and wrap it around himself. He had to sink his teeth into his bottom lip to keep himself from groaning loud enough to be heard in the living room.)

“Odpieprz się,” Stiles groaned and unlike the first time Derek had heard Stiles utter those words to his brother, there wasn't an ounce of anger in his voice; he just sounded _wrecked_ , all before Stuart had even really touched him. A few moments later, when Stuart used his teeth to gently snap the elastic of Stiles' boxers back against his stomach, Stiles _growled_ and shoved his hand into Stuart's hair, tugging hard enough to pull his brother's head back, extending the long line of his pale neck.

“Stuart, lube. Get it. _Now_.” He let go of Stuart's hair and his palm smoothed over where he'd been pulling. “ _Please_ ,” he added and Stuart grinned at him, his tongue running over his lips before they turned up into another smirk. 

“Okay,” he said. He pressed one last lingering kiss to Stiles' flat stomach before he stood up, tugging Stiles' boxers off as he did so. However, Derek only had a few moments to appreciate the sight of Stiles' cock jutting towards his stomach; Stuart took two steps towards the camera before he seemingly tripped over something (or maybe he was drunker than Derek had originally suspected). As he fell, his hand struck out and hit the camera, sending it to the floor and causing the video to abruptly end in a brief screech of static. 

Under different circumstances, Derek might have found Stuart's fumble amusing, might have found it funny that the guy who was always in control of his surroundings and himself had simply tripped over thin air (or maybe it was his sweatpants from earlier). He might have even found it funny (in a painful sort of way) that such a ridiculously hot video could end in a completely absurd way. 

But Derek was too busy coming against his stomach and stifling a string of curse words and moans against his free hand to find any of those things funny.

&.

Although the television was still on in the living room (even though it was now well after three o'clock in the morning), Derek managed to make it to the bathroom and back without Erica or Boyd noticing him. When he was safely back in his bedroom, he yanked the memory stick out of his laptop and dropped it into the top drawer of his desk before he collapsed on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. 

“Oh my God,” he whispered to himself, scrubbing one hand down his face. “Oh my _God_.”

He couldn't believe what he had just done. He knew that a normal person would have shut the video off as soon as Stuart had started kissing Stiles; hell, they probably would have done it in the first few seconds, as soon as it had been obvious what was about to happen. A normal person wouldn't have been enraptured by the video. 

A normal person _definitely_ wouldn't have jerked off to the damn thing. 

Derek only needed to remember how _panicked_ Stiles had looked at the library to be certain that Stiles had definitely not expected him to have such a favorable reaction to the video. He probably thought that Derek was never going to speak to him again; hell, he was probably afraid that Derek was going to do more than that. After all, he had called Stuart's idea reckless (and Derek was positive that Stiles had been referring to the video, not some school project) and frankly, it kind of _was_. If Derek had been a different kind of person, he could have uploaded the video to the internet, to some porn site that catered to all sorts of strange kinks. He could have ruined their lives. 

Stuart (and maybe Stiles, by the end of his discussions with his twin) had apparently decided to trust that he wouldn't do that. And even if Derek hadn't already thought that putting the video on the internet would have been morally abhorrent, he wasn't going to betray the trust that he had apparently earned. 

At the very least though, he knew he should have been slightly bothered by what he had watched. After all, even if there was professional porn starring twins (that he had looked up once or twice), there were all matter of things Derek found hot in porn that he didn't necessarily want to happen in reality.

But the fact of the matter was that he had been imagining the very images (or similar enough ones) that he'd seen on the memory stick from nearly the first day he had met the Stilinski twins. Seeing them outside the confines of his imagination hadn't made him back away in disgust; if anything, they had given him one of the best orgasms he had ever had. 

Still, even though he couldn't find it in himself to feel even more than slightly guilty about enjoying the video, his mind was racing with questions that he needed to have answered. 

The first: had that been the twin's first time screwing around? It only took a few moments of him replaying the video in his mind for Derek to come to the conclusion that it couldn't have been. He imagined that the first time someone wilfully kissed their twin brother, there _had_ to be some awkwardness, but it looked like Stiles and Stuart had long passed that phase. They were simply too comfortable with each other, with asking for what they wanted, for it to be the first time.

But did they only do it while they were drunk? They wouldn't have been the first people Derek had met who did things while intoxicated that they professed to have no interest in while sober. That was a question he couldn't answer by replaying the video's events in his head.

How _long_ had they been doing it? Stiles and Stuart had been younger, but not by much; their hair hadn't been _that_ much shorter and although he'd only gotten a brief glimpse of it the other night, he'd been fairly sure that the video had been filmed in the bedroom at their apartment. Was this a thing that had started at university, where sexual experimentation (although usually not of the kissing your twin variety) was practically the norm? Or was this something that had a longer history, stretching back into high school? 

Although Derek wanted all of these questions answered, there was one that rose above all of them, one thing that he _needed_ to know. 

Were they still doing it?

He couldn't wait until the morning to find that out. He groped out for his cell and brought Stiles' contact info up. There was only a moment of hesitation before he pressed _call_. At the very least, he had to leave a voicemail, to let Stiles know that he had watched the video, that he needed to talk to him as soon as possible. 

But on only the second ring, Stiles answered and for a few moments, the only noise Derek could hear was the sound of his soft breathing. 

“Hey Derek,” he finally sighed. “Did you-”

“Yes,” Derek interrupted. “I... I watched the whole thing, Stiles.”

“Really? I was pretty sure you were going to smash the stick when you saw what was on it. Or burn it or... something.” He trailed off and sighed again and Derek couldn't help but wonder if Stuart was in the room with him, if he was as sleepless as Stiles apparently was. 

“I feel like that's what I should be doing. But that isn't what I _want_ to do. I don't really know what I want to do, Stiles. I've just got so many questions.” 

“Ask them,” Stiles said, his voice weary but firm. “Anything, Derek. I'll answer anything, it's the least I can do after lying to you.” 

“You're not the only one who's been lying,” Derek blurted, the words passing his lips before he could think of the ramifications. But it was too late to take them back and besides, if they were going to be having honesty hour, it wasn't fair that Stiles be the only one spilling his secrets. 

“About what?” Stiles asked, the tone of his voice impossible to read. Derek sighed and took a moment to try and figure out how best to word his confession. 

“Stiles, I've been... I've been screwing around with Stuart for... Jesus, since before you and I went on our first date. But I didn't stop after that. The same day you brought me a coffee at the library, he was there after you and when I walked you both home, he had his hand in my back pocket the whole time and I didn't even try to stop him. I didn't _want_ him to stop, Stiles, but before I came over last week, I told him we had to quit, because I _like_ you Stiles, I really do. It's not fair that I kept this from you. I should have told you sooner.” The words rushed out of him and when he was done, Derek sighed, deflating like a balloon. He hadn't felt tired at all despite the late hour but now that he had finally said the words that had been nagging at him for weeks, he felt nothing but exhausted and guilty. 

For a few moments, Derek thought that Stiles had hung up on him and truthfully, Derek wouldn't have blamed him one bit if he had done so. But finally, Stiles laughed quietly, a laugh that was so opposite the tipsy giggle that had opened up the video. It sounded tired and defeated and Derek's stomach suddenly lurched. 

“That day at the library, the one you were just talking about, was that the day he blew you?” Derek's stomach lurched again and his tongue suddenly felt thick and useless in his mouth. Had Stiles come back to visit after his class and seen them through the tiny window in the door of the cubicle? Had Stuart somehow let it slip out? 

He'd called Stiles hoping to have some questions answered, but it just seemed like more and more were coming up with every second that passed. 

“Yeah,” Derek finally said, clearing his throat before he could spit the word out. “Yeah, that was the day.” Unexpectedly, Stiles laughed wearily again and murmured something in Polish that Derek couldn't make out. In the background, Derek heard another low voice that was unmistakably Stuart's saying something back, which at the very least answered his unspoken question about whether or not Stuart was as sleepless as his brother. After a few moments, Stiles cleared his throat as well and in the seconds before he spoke, Derek felt like he was going to go mad with anxious anticipation. 

“I already know, Derek,” Stiles said quietly, sounding as tired as Derek felt. “About all of it. I've known the whole time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry about the cliffhanger... again. next chapter won't have one, I promise! as always, big thanks to wenyavie for assisting me with the translations. (:
> 
> Glossary of terms used in this chapter:
> 
> Kurwa = fuck.  
> Proszę = please.  
> Proszę nie każ mi czekać = please don't make me wait.  
> Odpieprz się = fuck off.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the delay on this chapter; this has been an absurdly busy month! this chapter was initially supposed to contain more but I think I found a good place to end it for now and I swear I won't take as long to get the next chapter up.

Derek was fairly certain that he could count the number of times he had been stunned into complete silence on one hand. All of those instances (or at least the ones that his exhausted mind could recall) involved one of his siblings telling him something that they had done so truly, this was the first time that someone outside of his family had managed to stun him into speechlessness.

“Derek? Are you still there?” Stiles asked, his voice hardly louder than a whisper. Derek knew that he had to say something but no matter how many times he tried to swallow around the lump in his throat, he couldn't bring enough moisture back into his mouth to speak.

“Derek? Fuck, I think we lost him,” Stiles muttered and Derek finally managed to make his tongue form sounds again. 

“No,” he spat out. “No, I'm still here.” 

“Okay, good.” Stiles sighed. “Since you didn't hang up yet, I should probably tell you that I didn't just know about you and Stuart. I... fuck, I kinda indirectly encouraged you two.” 

“What are you talking about?” Derek asked. Now that he'd gotten a few words out, he didn't seem to have any problems speaking, but his brain still felt like one massive tangled mess. There was a backlog of questions that he wanted answered, yet more and more just kept popping up. It felt like there were weights attached to his eyelids and he was pretty sure that if even a little bit of the turmoil in his head wasn't resolved, he was simply going to pass out from mental exhaustion. 

“Well, the day at the library when Stuart-”

“Yeah, I know what day you're talking about,” Derek interrupted. He hadn't meant to snap, not really, but the day was still familiar in his mind and he didn't want to waste any time going back over stuff he was all too aware of. “What did you do, Stiles?” 

“I told Stuart you were up there,” he blurted. “Pretty well as soon as I left, I texted him and told him where you were and that you'd probably appreciate another distraction.”

“That wasn't _exactly_ how you worded it-”

“Stuart, shut up,” Stiles hissed before falling into a silence that Derek truly appreciated. He needed to get some sleep so that he could properly sort through all the information in his mind, but this wasn't a conversation he wanted to put off; hell, he wasn't certain that he'd ever be able to return to it if he didn't deal with it as best as he could immediately. He sighed and rubbed at his closed eyes with his fist, focusing on the fireworks that sprang up beneath his eyelids. 

He knew that on some level, he should have felt relieved. Since he'd met the twins, he'd almost constantly been keeping something from both of them, but especially from Stiles and the guilt from that had been weighing him down for a long time. Discovering that all of that guilt was essentially for no reason should have made him breathe a little easier, at the very least. 

After all, was it still lying if the other party already knew the information you were withholding from them?

He didn't have the time or the energy to really give that question the thought it deserved. Regardless of the answer, he knew that he hadn't been a saint throughout the whole situation, but he still couldn't help but feel as if he had been played. After all, while he'd been having internal debates with himself, Stiles and Stuart had been running circles around him. Not only had they been keeping some pretty big secrets of their own (although Derek couldn't really fault them for not wanting to be forthcoming with the fact that they were sleeping with each other) but the entire time, they had possessed all of the information that Derek assumed they were missing. Sure, it may have been over dramatic but he felt like a pawn in some bizarre game he couldn't quite grasp the details of. 

“Why did you lie to me?” Derek finally asked, trying to keep his voice steady. “Why did you _both_ lie to me?”

“About what was on the tape? Derek, we had to-”

“Not about that, Stiles. I really don't care about the tape right now,” he said, which wasn't too far from the truth. Sure, there were still a number of questions pertaining to the tape and the relationship between the twins that he wanted to have answered, but they could wait.

“Well you can't just separate the two things!” Stiles snapped. “If I'd told you that it really didn't bother me that my brother gave you a handjob in the library, what would you have said? What if I told you that I knew that he was watching us when we were on the couch and I _liked_ it? Would you have stuck around, or would you have run off?”

“I...” For the second time in less than ten minutes, Derek was rendered completely speechless. Although he was fairly certain that Stiles' question had been mainly rhetorical, he still couldn't think of an answer. He wanted to say that he _wouldn't_ have taken off but if he was being honest with himself, he wasn't sure if that was entirely true. It was one thing to confront your fantasies over a number of weeks or months; even if he'd still felt a little guilty about having such thoughts, by the time he'd viewed the video, he'd pretty well come to terms with the fact that he wanted both of the twins. But if he'd been confronted with those fantasies in one harsh moment, if he'd had only an instant to come to a conclusion about them...

Well, he had a feeling that he would have run away, just so he wouldn't have had to deal with the situation. 

“Sorry,” Stiles sighed. “I didn't really mean to yell. But... _kurwa_ , Derek, I know what we did was really fucking stupid and we treated you horribly, please don't think we don't know that. I know this isn't a goddamn excuse but we were both really confused, just as confused as you were probably.” 

“What were you confused about?” For a few moments, Stiles failed to get a full sentence out of his mouth. The closest he got to one was a disjointed string of English and Polish curse words, followed by a particularly frustrated sounding groan. That in turn was followed by some rustling but before Derek could try and figure out what was making that noise, Stuart's voice came through the phone. 

“Derek,” he said quietly and even though Derek's eyelids had starting drooping while he waited for Stiles to speak again, the sobriety in Stuart's tone brought his complete attention back to the conversation. “Stiles and I... we've always had each other, I mean, that's pretty goddamn obvious, right? We always had each other, no matter who else we were seeing or screwing around with, but there's never been someone else we both wanted. _Never_. You were the first and to be honest, we didn't know what the hell to do, we still-”

“We just know we want you involved,” Stiles interjected, drowning out whatever else Stuart said. “We don't know the fucking details, but we just want you with us, somehow. But if you never wanna speak to us again after this, that's... well, I'm gonna be honest and say I _won't_ be totally cool about it, but I'll, I mean, _we'll_ both understand.”

“If that's the way you wanna go though,” Stuart said, “let us know. I know you don't owe us anything but if you want us to stay away from you, just tell us and we'll do it.” 

“But please don't tell anyone about the tape,” Stiles said. “Like seriously, if you wanna tell people we're assholes, we probably deserve that but if we could just keep that tape between us, that would be... well, that would be great.” 

It was a lot of information to take in, way too much for Derek's brain to completely absorb given how tired and overloaded his mind already was. However, even though he felt like he was simply going to shut down at any moment, there was at least one thing he was sure of. He was certain that Stiles and Stuart had meant their apologies, that they _did_ feel guilty about what they had done. Even though he couldn't read their body language and even though they had certainly demonstrated a remarkable capacity for lying to him in the past, he just _knew_ that they meant every word they had said. 

He also knew that their words hadn't fixed everything. Maybe it was simply because it was now past five AM and the sun was going to be breaking through his curtains sooner rather than later and he still hadn't slept, but he still couldn't shake the feeling that he'd been completely played. It might have been selfish but that wasn't something he could totally understand, let alone get over, in only a few minutes, no matter how genuine the twins were. He was sure that it would only take a few more minutes of conversation to get at least a little bit of closure but frankly, he was _exhausted_ , inside and out. If he forced himself to try and unpack all the information he'd been given, he knew that he was just bound to end up saying something that he didn't really mean and frankly, the situation didn't need to be any more fucking complicated. 

“Look,” he sighed, rubbing at his eyes again. “I'm not going to tell anyone about the tape. I can promise you both that. But it's _way_ too late for me to even try and get all of this stuff straightened out in my head. Give me a few hours to get some sleep and I'll let you know tomorrow what I've figured out.” 

“Okay,” Stiles said, punctuating the word with a yawn. “Fuck, we've got class in three and a half hours. We've screwed.”

“Sorry that I kept you both up so late. I should have waited to call.”

“Hey, we kept you up too. Just another thing we should both be sorry for, I guess.”

When Derek hung up, his phone was slick with warm sweat and the battery was nearly drained. But it didn't make it to the charger; as soon as he ended the call, he dropped it onto his pillow and moved just far enough to turn off the lamp on his bedside table.

He was asleep almost as soon as the light went out.

&. 

By the time Derek finally woke up, his room was warm with afternoon sunlight and he was completely sure that he'd slept through his classes. However, when he attempted to check the time on his phone, the screen didn't light up. Unsurprisingly, it was completely dead (and still a little damp with sweat) so while he waited for it to charge, he changed into a new pair of sweatpants and a shirt before he wandered out of his room, hoping that there were some leftovers in the fridge that he could scarf down. The living room and kitchen were empty, but there was a breeze flowing through the apartment from the half-open balcony door. When he stepped outside, he walked right into a cloud of pot smoke, which only made him cough. 

“Did Boyd leave?” he asked Erica, who was sitting in the chair beside the ratty love seat. He did his best to glare at Isaac but, unperturbed, he simply tapped more ash from his joint over the balcony and shrugged apologetically. 

“Yeah,” she said, hair up in a bun, eyes fixated on the notebook in her lap. “Unlike _somebody_ I know, he actually decided to go to his classes instead of sleeping in.” When Derek stretched out on the other rickety lounge chair beside her, she looked up, probably with the intention of giving him a lecture, but her face quickly changed from amused to something that almost looked concerned. 

“Derek, you look like crap,” she said, flipping her notebook shut. “What's wrong with you?” 

“Nothing,” Derek muttered, more out of habit than anything. As usual, Erica didn't take that for an answer; even though he was pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes, he could feel her staring at him. If it had been any other situation, he would have waited for her to get bored but the truth was, he had a feeling that talking to someone else about Stiles and Stuart might actually be helpful. Even though he hadn't given the situation any thought since he'd rolled out of bed, his head was beginning to throb and attempting to muddle through things in his own mind was just bound to make his headache worse. 

“Twins,” he finally sighed. “Why did they have to be _twins_?” 

“Twins are awesome,” Isaac piped in, flicking the remnants of his joint over the railing. 

“He's not wrong,” Erica said. “But I kind of figured that it's been the Stilinskis that were making you act so weird.” 

“What did you just say?” Derek asked, his eyes flying back open. Erica had been bugging him about Stiles for weeks, especially since she'd overheard them having phone sex. But how the hell did she know about Stuart? 

“The Stilinskis,” she repeated. “Stiles and Stuart. Unless you've found another set of twins to fawn over.” 

“No, it's them,” Derek said. “But how did you know?”

“Isaac told me,” she answered, rolling her eyes as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Derek couldn't help but be relieved; for a few moments, he'd been terrified that the twins had been telling everyone about their relationship and he'd just been too oblivious to realize it. But while he was happy that his paranoid thoughts had no basis in reality, he couldn't help but lean forward until he could glare over at Isaac again. His tall frame was now stretched out on (and dangling off of) the love seat reserved for his smoking and he looked remarkably nonplussed, although that was probably due more to the weed than anything. 

“Do you tell her everything?” he asked.

“Eventually,” Isaac replied, shrugging again. “I can't help it, dude. She's always been _way_ scarier than you.” 

“What can I say, I learned from the best,” Erica smirked and Derek knew that somewhere, Laura was probably feeling immensely proud of herself. “But seriously, Derek, how fucked up could things really be?” 

“I didn't tell Stiles that I was screwing around with Stuart,” Derek blurted, feeling like a weight had lifted off his head as soon as he got the words out. Awkward as it may have been to share such information with his siblings, he knew that they weren't going to spill his secrets to anyone else. 

“And I called him last night after I... well, so I could get it off my chest,” he amended, banishing all thoughts of the tape to the back of his mind so that he wouldn't slip up again. “But he already knew all about it. He knew the whole time and it didn't bother him, so I've been feeling fucking guilty for months for no real reason.” For a few long moments, both Erica and Isaac were silent and Derek didn't dare turn his head to look at them. Maybe he had completely misjudged the situation, misjudged how they would react. 

“So he's totally cool with you sleeping with his brother while you date him? That's kind of kinky,” Isaac said and Derek couldn't help but groan. 

“That's besides the point,” Erica said. “Derek, are you upset because Stiles lied-”

“That's more a lie of omission than anything-”

“Isaac, shut up. Are you upset that he lied or are you just confused about the three of you being a thing? Because _you_ obviously don't mind sharing and if _they_ don't mind, that's totally a thing that could work.” 

“The first thing.” After hearing his options spoken out loud by someone else, it was fairly easy for Derek to come to that conclusion. Sure, things obviously wouldn't be as easy as Erica had made them sound; there were still so many things that the three of them needed to talk about, boundaries that they needed to set before they could even think of making an attempt down that path, but theoretically, it was definitely something that could work. 

But there was no point in thinking about that option in any depth at the moment. Even though he knew he really had no grounds for being upset about it, it was the lying that was making his head hurt. It was the violation of truth that all of them had committed to some extent or another. Derek really didn't know if it was a good idea to be in _any_ relationship that had been founded (at least partly) in deceit, let alone a polyamorous one that would always involve some level of secrecy, at least when it came to telling his friends and family. 

“Well, it's your choice. If you think the three of you can talk about it and move past the lies, including _your_ lies,” she said, fixing him with a glare that was terrifying but short lived, “then I say go for it. We aren't going to judge.” 

“I'm actually kind of jealous,” Isaac said and Derek didn't know whether to roll his eyes or glare again. “But seriously Derek, just do what feels right. Take awhile to think about it, if you think time will help.” 

“I think I'm going to,” Derek sighed. As much as talking to his siblings about things had helped him sort out some of the chaos in his brain, November was pretty well over. Final exams were only a few weeks away and after that, he was going to be faced with the unique chaos that was the Hale family holidays. There were so many other things he had to focus on and even though part of him was worried about what would happen if he put things off, it seemed like, for the time being, that was the best option he had. So while Erica and Isaac turned back to their textbooks, he headed back inside to retrieve his phone, before his courage left him. 

But although he had a pretty good idea of what he wanted his message to convey, putting that message into text format provided to be an exercise in futility. He tried all sorts of introductions but after only a few words, he inevitably hit backspace and went back to staring at his screen. Finally, after ten minutes of nothing less than sheer frustration, he pressed _call_ instead and waited, his headache growing with each second that went by. After five long rings, there was a click on the other end of the line and although Stiles' voice came on, the tinny sound quality was enough to indicate that it was his voice mail message. 

“ _Yo, you've reached Stiles Stilinski, leave me a message and I'll call you back soon as I can. Or as soon as I remember. Yeah...”_ Derek couldn't help but roll his eyes; it was a fairly standard message for the most part but still, it was just so _Stiles_ and in the few seconds between the end of the message and the beep, Derek felt his resolve loosen, just a bit. Was this something he actually wanted to do? Did he _really_ want to take the time to figure things out for himself, or did he want to throw caution to the wind? They could always figure things out along the way, after all-

The _beep_ sounded in his ear and, taking a deep breath, Derek ignored all the reservations in his brain and began the most painful voicemail he'd ever left in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now I know some of you are probably quite grumpy about the ending of this chapter, but turn that frown upside down! everything will be happier from here on out and there's going to be a very small time lapse between this chapter and the next.
> 
> you're all awesome.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry for the wait! hopefully this extra-long chapter makes up for it! (:

The grandfather clock in the front foyer of the Hale homestead had just struck midnight and Derek was well on his way to being certifiably drunk. 

The house was absolutely packed; even though they were usually scattered to the four corners of the planet, the Christmas holidays always managed to bring almost the entire Hale clan under one roof. His younger sister Cora had flown in the previous day from Brazil, accompanied by the cousins she'd been staying with and although the force of the hug she'd given him had almost knocked him over, he hadn't gotten a chance to really catch up with her; almost as soon as she'd let go of him, she'd disappeared into the bedroom she'd shared with Erica in high school. On the few occasions he'd seen her since, she'd had her face buried in her phone, talking to 'a girl' (as she'd tersely snapped when one of their distant relations had asked who she was so caught up in). He hadn't seen her at all since the first of his six glasses of eggnog (each of which contained a liberal quantity of rum) but he wasn't too concerned; sooner or later, he'd be able to catch up with her. 

Laura was also somewhere in the house; she had arrived only a few hours ago, her two kids zipping along behind her, husband apparently occupied with another family dinner. He hadn't gotten a chance to talk to her either, aside from a quick hug and greeting when she'd arrived; it seemed that every time he caught a glimpse of her, she was embroiled in conversation with another one of their cousins or distant relatives and even though he could tell that she was getting bored with the constant stream of questions, he didn't dare drag her away and risk invoking the wrath of one of his more highstrung relations. 

As it was, he was trapped in the kitchen and although that meant he was conveniently close to the punch bowl of spiked eggnog, he was surrounded by family friends and acquaintances that he'd maybe exchanged a dozen words with in his life. The exception was Peter, his skeezy uncle who only showed up to events every other year, always with a different woman on his arm. 

(Girl may have been a more appropriate term, since they were usually university students roughly the same age as Erica and Cora.)

Peter _was_ family, close family at that but just being around him always made Derek feel like he'd touched something slimy; talking to him was even worse so while he kept trying to make conversation with him, Derek kept his answers to one words grunts and just kept drinking. 

After the clock struck midnight, the kitchen got even more packed, as people filed in to finish off the last of the snacks his mother had been working on for the past week. When one of his father's sisters engaged Peter in conversation, Derek made his move. Filling his glass up one last time, he wove his way out into the hallway, trying his best to ignore how his legs felt more than a little unsure of themselves. He had a destination in mind, one he hoped would grant him a few moments of peace from the chaos around him and as soon as he reached the broad door just off the front foyer, he slid inside. 

Thankfully, the living room (or rather, the library, since that was the role it truly played) was dark, lit only by the moonlight pouring in through the picture window. Although the door didn't quite block out all of the noise from the rest of the house (which was now echoing with the sound of numerous people drunkenly singing a Christmas carol), it still provided sufficient isolation and Derek gratefully collapsed into one of the recliners dotting the room. 

He couldn't believe that it was already Christmas. December seemed to have flown by; between studying for his exams and the extra shifts he picked up at the library, there had been numerous days where he'd passed out as soon as he'd hit his bed, still wearing his jeans; on one particularly hectic day, he'd fallen asleep with his boots still on. Since he'd gotten home, his parents had kept him busy, quizzing him about his life, making him pick up supplies for Christmas dinner, trying to get the scoop on his younger siblings. Frankly, as much as Derek loved and adored (most) of his family, between school and his family, it had been a very draining month. 

However, and Derek didn't know if this was a positive or a negative fact, it had also meant that he'd had very few opportunities to think about the Stilinski twins. This didn't mean that they had completely left his mind; he was still reminded of them every day, to some extent or another. While walking across campus, if he saw a student with the same backpack as Stiles, his heart would momentarily skip a little bit. When he was doing research for one of his final papers, he'd come across an article by a Polish historian and just seeing the man's name had sent his thoughts off into a brief reverie about all the different things the twins had whispered in his ears or said against his mouth. 

But those little moments, those reminders and recollections, weren't really actual thoughts; they were more automatic reactions than anything. Since he'd left the voicemail for Stiles (a voicemail that he had never received a response to; not that he'd expected one), he hadn't done what he'd promised he would. He hadn't sat down by himself and allowed his mind to wander through all of the information he had acquired almost a month ago; he hadn't tried to sort through it at his own leisure in the hope that he'd be able to process it all and come to some concrete conclusion. 

But now, on the most unlikely of days, he finally had a moment to himself, a moment where he was alone and not totally worn out. Although the rum was making his head feel light, it seemed to him that it was the appropriate time to think about the Stilinskis. He drained the last of his drink in one long swig before attempting to set the glass on the stand beside the recliner; he overestimated and dropped it on the floor instead but thankfully, the glass didn't break and the floor wasn't carpet so the thought of cleaning it up didn't even cross his mind. He had other things to think about, like Stiles and Stuart. 

He wished he had a picture of them. There _was_ the video, of course, but that was only on the memory stick, which was buried in his desk drawer underneath dozens of pens and some sheets of paper and besides, he wasn't entirely sure if watching the video again would really do anything for the state of his brain. He wriggled his hand into his pocket and yanked his phone out, which he'd been ignoring all night. He was fairly sure that he had no photos of Stuart but he had dutifully saved all of the pictures that Stiles had sent him, including the one of his back, reddened and sore from the night Derek had kissed him against the brick wall of-

Before he could find that picture (or any of Stiles' pictures, for that matter), the door of the library opened, admitting both a lot of noise and Laura, who was easily carrying both of her sleeping children in her arms. She kicked the door shut behind her and while she laid them down on the room's couch to sleep, Derek went back to scrolling through his pictures, progress hindered by the fact his thumb kept sliding off his screen. 

“I was wondering where you'd ran off to,” Laura said quietly, grabbing an ottoman and pulling it over until she was pressed against the side of Derek's recliner. “What are you doing anyways?”

“Looking through pictures,” Derek muttered, finally finding a picture of Stiles. He couldn't exactly remember all of the details, but he had an inkling that Stiles had sent him the picture he was looking at after their phone sex incident. But before he could really think about it further, Laura snatched his phone out of his hand. 

“Is this _Stiles_?” she asked, using her feet to push herself backwards and out of Derek's reach. “Damn Derek, I can see why you went all love puppy over this guy. He's definitely easy on the eyes.” 

“ _Laura_ ,” Derek growled but his sister just kept on looking at the picture, completely undeterred. 

“So the only difference between him and Stuart is the glasses, right?” She threw out the question in such a casual way that it actually took a moment for Derek to realize what she had said, and for his stomach to subsequently drop. 

“Oh my God, you know too,” he groaned, dropping his head into his hands, annoyed with the flush of embarrassment he could feel spreading across his face. “Are there any secrets in this family?” 

“Nope. Erica called me right after she got it out of Isaac. The only reason Cora doesn't know yet is because she's too busy talking to some girl named Lydia. And I thought _you_ had it bad.” Derek groaned again and made another half-assed grab for his phone, but Laura was still safely out of reach and the only thing he managed to achieve was nearly falling out of the chair. 

“You haven't told anyone else, have you?” he asked. “Like Mom or Dad? You didn't tell Uncle Peter, did you?” Laura snorted and for a second, Derek's stomach plummeted again because if Peter somehow knew, it was only a matter of time before everyone in the family and the surrounding county knew as well. 

“Jesus Derek, I'm not _that_ bad. Hell will freeze over before I tell Peter anything incriminating. Don't worry, your secret is safe with us.” She finally stopped looking at his phone but she still didn't pass it back to him and Derek just barely managed to bite back a whine. He _may_ have been drunk, but he wasn't drunk enough to give Laura even more blackmail material. 

“What were you doing looking at pictures of Stiles anyways?” she asked and although Derek could barely make out her face, he was almost positive that she was arching an eyebrow at him. “You gonna send him a drunk text or something?” 

“I was just looking,” he muttered and although that was, strictly speaking, the truth, now that Laura mentioned it, maybe sending Stiles a text wasn't such a bad idea. Maybe talking to him again would make it easier to to wade through the muddled mess that was his mind.

“Bullshit,” Laura said jovially. She scooted the footstool closer to him but before he could make another grab for his phone, she tucked it into the pocket of her jeans. When she spoke again, her tone had completely changed. She was in full big sister mode and at any other time, Derek probably would have rolled his eyes at her. But it _was_ Christmas; he supposed he could give her his full attention.

“Derek, you obviously care for this guy. You obviously care for both of them, actually. If you didn't, you wouldn't have felt so bad about everything. You wouldn't still be thinking about it, you would have moved on and considering what I just walked in on, that obviously isn't the case.”

“I wasn't doing anything,” Derek protested. 

“It _is_ pretty shitty that you all lied to each other,” she continued, not acknowledging that he had said anything. “But I don't think that's totally the death knell for the three of you. Derek, if you really care about the two of them and if they really care about you, then try things again. Talk shit out, set your boundaries and start over. Stop overthinking things before your damn head explodes.” 

“But how do I...” Derek trailed off and groaned again. Maybe Laura was right; maybe he was just making things way more difficult than they had to be. But even if he was willing to give her that point, how exactly was he supposed to begin that conversation? Was he supposed to just call Stiles and say _I really fucking like you and your brother, I want to be with both of you, all of us, together_? How was he supposed to express those thoughts in a way that made sense and didn't make him sound like a total jackass?

God, he didn't have a freaking clue. He'd never experienced anything remotely like this; all he had for a frame of reference were some of the movies he'd watched.

“Maybe I should just-”

“Derek, I guarantee that whatever you're about to suggest is probably a horrible idea,” Laura said. “Besides, even if you've magically come to the conclusion that you've been overthinking this whole thing, I'm not going to let you risk fucking it up again. Good siblings don't let their love puppy siblings send drunk texts.” Derek opened his mouth to try and protest that ridiculous nickname again but it suddenly hit him just how tired he was. Maybe it was just the sheer relief washing through him (or maybe it was the rum) but his mind and his eyes were both exhausted and he sank down into the chair, head lolling back. 

“Thanks Laura,” he managed to say, his eyes already drifting closed. Just before he passed out, he felt her ruffle his hair, like she'd always done when he was a kid. 

“You're welcome, little brother.”

&.

Before Derek even opened his eyes wider than a slit, he knew he was screwed. There was a headache throbbing at his temples and the tiny glimpse of light he got before he firmly slammed his eyes closed again only made the throbbing increase in frequency and strength. His tongue felt dry and useless in his mouth and his stomach was churning in a way that he really didn't like. 

“Merry Christmas Derek!” 

Based on the sheer volume of her voice, Laura had either yelled directly in his ear or he was _really_ hungover. He forced his eyes open, just wide enough to get a good grip on his surroundings and sure enough, Laura was standing right beside him, looking tired but sober, holding his phone in her hands. 

“I took it upon myself to open the lines of communication last night,” she said, holding it towards him and for the life of him, Derek couldn't understand what Laura was talking about. Nor could he really remember _why_ she had his phone; his memories of the night before hadn't quite formed into anything coherent. His confusion must have showed on his face, because she rolled her eyes and literally dropped the phone into his lap. 

“Go look at your texts.” That made a light of recognition go off in Derek's head and he fumbled at the screen as Laura left the room. He had one new text message from Stiles. Forcing himself to take a deep breath (and ignore the increasingly awful churning in his stomach), Derek remembered Laura's words and checked the conversation to see what she had sent on his behalf. 

_Derek Hale, 1:13AM:_ Wesołych Świąt, to you and Stuart both. 

Although it was torturous to tear himself away before he read Stiles' text, Derek had to perform a quick translation on the web because although he had a feeling that what Laura had sent meant something along the lines of merry Christmas, he wasn't going to be completely relaxed until he knew she hadn't sent something perverted or embarrassing. Thankfully, his hunch turned out to be correct and, steeling himself against the possibility of something harsh, he finally read Stiles' message. 

**Stiles, 7:30AM:** Wesołych Świąt to you too Derek. hope you're doing okay, we miss you. 

Derek shut his eyes (not just because the light was making his headache spike again) and sighed. While part of him wanted to be angry with Laura, he knew that he really didn't have a valid reason to be upset with her. If anything, she had done him a massive fucking favor; she'd broken down the self-imposed wall he'd put between himself and the twins and now, it seemed all too easy to respond to Stiles' message with a text entirely of his own creation. 

_Derek Hale, 8:04AM:_ I miss you too. I'll be back in town soon. Can we talk? 

Now that he'd finally said what he'd been keeping from even himself for the past month, he felt so much better; he felt _relieved._ That didn't change the fact that he still had a rather severe hangover, but that was his own fault. Speaking of said hangover, the smell of bacon was drifting into the library through the still-open door and something greasy to settle his stomach sounded like an amazing idea. He had just reached the door when his phone buzzed again and before he waded back out into the fray that was his family, he checked the new message. 

**Stiles, 8:06AM:** ball's totally in your court. You name the time and place and i'll be there.

&. 

By the time New Year's Day came around, Derek was more than ready to get back to his own apartment. It had been nice to catch up with everyone, to see Laura and Cora and his parents but after being constantly surrounded by people for over two weeks, he was anxious to have some time to himself. His parents had agreed to drive Erica and Isaac back in a few days so after he dropped Cora off at the airport (and got punched _hard_ in the arm for attempting to bring up Lydia, the girl she was apparently not-so-officially dating), he headed back himself. 

He had hardly finished unpacking when he felt anxiousness begin to creep its way up his spine. Although he had wanted some time to himself, the apartment was too damn quiet without Erica and Isaac around and turning on the television only made the problem worse. It wasn't just the silence that was bothering him; now that he was back, it seemed imperative that he talk to Stiles as soon as possible. So before he could successfully distract himself (and run away from the issue again), he sent Stiles a text, the first he'd sent since Christmas morning. 

_Derek Hale, 3:15PM:_ when are you going to be back in town?

He forced himself to put his phone down so that he could grab something from their painfully depleted kitchen; he definitely needed to get groceries as soon as possible. By the time he threw something together and returned to his bedroom, he had a reply to his message.

**Stiles, 3:20PM:** we've been back for a few days now. are you back? 

Derek bypassed sending a text back; instead, he pressed _call_ , ignoring all of the reservations he had. For some reason, he just needed to hear Stiles' voice; he needed to hear Stiles say that he wanted to see him again, and he needed to believe it. One ring had hardly gone by before there was a click and Derek waited, sucking the skin of his cheek between his teeth. 

“Hey Derek,” Stiles said quietly, sighing happily. “God, we've missed you. _I've_ missed you.” 

That was all Derek needed to hear to believe.

&. 

Six o'clock couldn't come fast enough. That was the time he'd agreed to meet Stiles, at the coffee shop on campus where they'd had their first date, but Derek hadn't been able to wait that long before he left. He'd tried reading a few of the books that were stacked beside his bed, he'd tried watching one of the cooking shows Erica was obsessed with, he'd even tried making a grocery list, but none of those tasks had managed to distract him for any longer than a few moments. So just after five o'clock, he'd left and even though he had attempted to prolong the walk to campus, he had still arrived half an hour early. 

He'd already finished one cup of coffee and his leg was bouncing up and down, his knee coming dangerously close to striking the underside of the table. There was a small hole in the red leather seat of the booth he was in and even though he knew it was kind of an asshole thing to do, he kept toying with it, picking away at the ragged edges, giving himself something to focus on because if he was left to his own devices any longer, he was bound to just get up and bolt. He didn't know why he was so damn nervous; this was _Stiles_ after all, he knew him. It wasn't like he was facing a potentially disastrous first date with someone he had no knowledge of. 

Then again... when he thought about it, that was _exactly_ what he was facing. If things went as they were supposed to, this would be the first time he'd ever had a truly open conversation with Stiles, a conversation where neither of them were holding a secret over the other's head. This was the first time they were both going to have all their cards on the table and there was no guarantee that everything was going to end well. 

Come to think of it, Derek was pretty sure he should have been _more_ nervous. 

“Derek?”

This time, Derek's knee did hit the underside of the table and he barely managed to bite back a curse as he turned away from the hole in the leather. Stiles was standing beside the table, one hand shoved deep into his pocket, the other one clutching a towering foam cup of what looked like black coffee. He was wearing a plaid shirt that Derek didn't recognize and he had apparently decided to stop shaving at some point in the last month; there was a dusting of stubble along the curve of his jaw, straggling down onto his throat and along the line of his upper lip. It wasn't that it looked _bad_ (although Derek was kind of disappointed that the stubble hid some of Stiles' moles); it was just different from what he expected and after a moment, Stiles coughed and ran a palm along his cheek, grinning sheepishly as he looked down at the table. 

“Yeah, I know, it's weird,” he said. “I've been meaning to get rid of it, but I haven't gotten around to it yet.” He trailed off, grin fading away as he started chewing on a section of his lip that already looked ragged. 

“Did you want to sit down?” Derek asked after a few moments of silence and Stiles jumped like he'd been prodded with something sharp.

“Oh. Yeah.” He slid into the opposite side of the booth but things didn't change after he'd sat down; his fingers danced along the rim of his cup and he kept on biting his lip. Derek didn't know exactly how to react either; now that Stiles was sitting in front of him, all of his carefully rehearsed speeches had completely vanished from his mind. 

“When did you get back?” he asked. It was small talk, the kind he usually hated, but he still considered the fact that he had gotten any words out a victory. 

“A few days ago. My dad could only get a few days off work. He's the sheriff back home and they're pretty short-staffed right now. I mean, we could have stayed a little longer and just hung out but...” He paused to take a massive sip of the coffee Derek was pretty sure he didn't need, based on how his leg was bouncing so hard it was vibrating the entire table. 

“To be honest, I'm kind of glad that we got to come back a little early, Derek. Both of us, we were hoping that we could fix this or, I don't know, get it resolved or something, before school starts again. I mean, obviously, we're _really_ hoping that we can work shit out but it's your decision.” He fell silent, except for the sound of his foot rapidly tapping off the ground. As it was, Derek was still having a difficult time breaking his own silence and the harder he tried to formulate a response, the more frustrated he got. 

Fuck it. Maybe there was something to be said about spontaneity.

He reached across the booth and dropped his hand over Stiles', which was in the midst of tapping out a quiet beat against the shiny surface of the table. He immediately stopped and looked up from his coffee and if he had any lingering doubts about the truthful nature of Stiles' actions and words, they disappeared the moment they made eye contact. Stiles wasn't lying anymore. He was sure of it. 

“Me too,” he said. “I think we can make this work, Stiles and I _want_ it to work. I really do.” He stopped for a moment, trying to figure out his next words and while he sifted through his brain, Stiles turned his palm upwards, tangling their fingers together. It was a small action but it was enough to distract him from the task at hand. 

“That's awesome,” Stiles said, squeezing Derek's hand, grin spreading across his face. “God, Derek, I'm so glad to hear you say that. I've been freaking out about this since Christmas, 'cause I had no idea what you were gonna say and this is... fuck, this is great.” He downed another gulp of coffee and although he was still smiling when he set it back on the table, he was also still shaking with nerves (or maybe that was just the caffeine). 

“So does that mean that you're okay with...” He stopped and quickly looked around the mostly-empty room in a gesture that was almost the antithesis of stealthy and Derek couldn't help but roll his eyes. “With Stuart and me? Like you're actually cool with that?”

“Yeah,” Derek said, returning Stiles' squeeze, amazed at how good it felt to finally vocalize what he'd been thinking for so long. “Yeah, I'm okay with it. More than okay, actually. But Stiles, I have _no_ idea how this whole thing, how the three of us, is going to work.” 

“Dude, neither do we. I mean, we've thought about it, but I think it's something we're all gonna have to talk about, together. Like to set boundaries or whatever.” Derek nodded; he was glad that Stiles had brought up the issue of boundaries because as far as he could see, that was still the primary hurdle that they were going to have to cross. 

“And no more lies,” Stiles continued. “From any of us. Fuck, we are _not_ doing that again. Only the truth, from here on out, even if it's gonna suck. Sound good?”

“Couldn't agree more.” Stiles' foot lightly tapped off Derek's shin beneath the table and although he wasn't sure if the action was deliberate or not, Derek still returned it in kind. Stiles smiled at him again but his eyes dropped back down to the table. It was clear that he was pondering something so Derek waited for him to respond, brushing his thumb over Stiles' while he waited for him to talk. 

“The last time we actually talked, before everything kind of went to hell, you said you had a bunch of questions, about me and Stuart, I think. Did you still want those answered?” It was a question Derek hadn't been expecting and for a few moments, he wasn't sure how to reply. On one hand, he did still want those questions answered, if only to sate his curiosity. 

But on the other hand, did the answers really matter anymore? He was fairly sure that no matter what Stiles told him, it wasn't going to change anything. Although he still wanted to hear what Stuart thought, for all intents and purposes, he had already made his decision. He was committed to making their relationship work, regardless of what Stiles told him. Finally, he sighed and squeezed Stiles' hand again. 

“It doesn't matter, Stiles. If you want to tell me, I'm not going to stop you, but it's completely up to you.” 

“Well, I've got an idea then,” Stiles said. “I'll tell you, but not here. Can I walk you home? I'll tell you along the way.” 

“Sounds like a plan.”

&. 

The walk back to his apartment took a good deal longer than usual; Derek dragged things out, taking side streets and slow steps, his hand tangled with Stiles' all the while. For the most part, he stayed silent, letting Stiles talk; it was his story, after all and Derek was sure that it was hard enough to tell someone about your 'history' with your twin brother without someone interrupting every ten seconds. 

All things considered, it wasn't even a very complicated story; it was made longer by both Stiles' long silences and the tangents he occasionally went off on, but it was fairly straightforward and it answered every question Derek had had about the two of them. What it came down to was that the video had not been the first time the twins had done anything together, not by a long shot. 

(“We were fifteen, I think. Dad was working and Stuart had gotten a bottle of whiskey from somewhere. He ended up bringing up this porno he'd watched and it'd had twins in it and yeah, things kind of... escalated, from there and I woke up the next morning thinking, 'huh, probably shouldn't have enjoyed any of that' but it never felt weird or anything. It felt totally normal.”)

But, as Derek had expected, it wasn't something they did only while intoxicated. Nor was it something they did all the time; as Stiles told it, on the few occasions in high school where he'd been casually dating someone, they'd stopped cold turkey. 

(“We didn't talk about it though; all it took was me bringing someone else up and it was just an unspoken thing, you know? That was enough.”)

By the time they reached his apartment building, Stiles was just wrapping up the story., explaining how the stuff he did with Stuart (and the way they hid it from everyone else) was such an integral part of his life that he had kind of forgotten what it felt like to _not_ lie about it. 

“Why was I different?” Derek asked quietly, stopping at the bottom of the steps that led to the front door. “You said that you'd been able to stop before. Why didn't you two stop this time?” Stiles' teeth scraped at his lip again and shrugged, his hand sliding out of Derek's. 

“Honestly? I don't really know,” he replied. “I think it was just because it was _you_ , Derek. Because we both wanted you, because you _worked_ with both of us. That's something that has never happened before. I know that's a shitty answer but I don't have anything better. I'm still trying to figure that out for myself.” It may not have been a conclusive answer, but Derek couldn't fault Stiles for that; after all, he still couldn't figure out why he wasn't bothered by anything Stiles had told him. Frankly, it was an issue he was tired of attempting to decipher. 

“Okay,” he said simply. A nearby streetlight was casting a glow onto the sidewalk and it was playing off of Stiles' cheekbones. Derek didn't know where they stood, if they had gotten to the point where touching was acceptable again so before he actually made contact, he simply held his hand beside Stiles' face, watching for any obvious changes in expression. 

“Can I?” Stiles nodded and when Derek's palm settled against his cheek, fingers cradling his jaw, he sighed and closed his eyes. His stubble tickled against Derek's hand and Derek couldn't help but scratch at it with his nail. 

“Are you going to keep this?” he asked, brushing his thumb over the thicker hairs above Stiles' lip. 

“Nah. Think I'll leave the beard growing to you. If I'm allowed to kiss you tonight, I'll get rid of it as soon as I get home. Obiecuję,” he murmured and although Derek hadn't been expecting to cap the night off with a kiss, he definitely wasn't going to waste the opportunity. 

“Okay." With that, Stiles closed the gap between them, his fingers curling into the front of Derek's jacket. Derek could still taste coffee on his lips and although he wanted to lick that taste right out of Stiles' mouth, he held himself back, tangling his fingers into Stiles' hair so he wasn't tempted to slide them underneath his shirt. As much as he missed the feeling of Stiles' bare skin underneath his hands, tonight had been productive enough. He was happy that he had finally cleared his mind, that he had Stiles (and Stuart) back; the rest could wait a few days, at the very least. 

When Stiles pulled away, he pressed a quick kiss to Derek's cheek before he stepped back, smiling broadly. It was a contagious smile, one Derek could feel spreading across his own face and he had a feeling it was a smile that was going to stay plastered on his face for the rest of the night. 

“So, we're all good?” Stiles asked and Derek couldn't help but snort, even as he pulled Stiles back in for one last kiss. 

“Yeah, Stiles. I'd say we're good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just had to include DOB's facial hair. I couldn't help myself.
> 
> index of terms used in this chapter: 
> 
> Wesołych Świąt = Merry Christmas.  
> Obiecuję = I promise.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry that it took me forever to get this chapter out! hopefully the sheer length helps make up for some of it; you're all awesome for sticking around!

On the day before classes began again, the library was almost completely empty. Truthfully, Derek didn't even really know _why_ the university bothered to open anything up before Monday; in the two hours that had passed since the start of his shift, he'd seen no more than a dozen people. Aside from a handful of grad students locked in the reserved cubicles on the top floor, there were only a few other people scattered around the place, seemingly trying to get a head start on their readings for the semester. 

Or maybe they were just taking advantage of the library's wi-fi. Either way, aside from an occasional cough or the tinny sounds of music leaking out of a pair of headphones, the place felt like a damn tomb. The front desk was being covered by one of Derek's co-workers (who was spending most of her time texting) and it'd taken him all of half an hour to put away the books that had been returned over the holidays so all he could really do was wander the shelves, looking for any books that were obviously in the wrong section. 

He didn't want to complain; there were far worse jobs that he could have been doing but if _something_ didn't happen, he was thinking about taking a nap for the last hour of his shift. Hell, he even would have appreciated if a fistfight broke out, which was saying something because if there was one thing Derek couldn't stand, it was people who started throwing punches in a damn _library_. 

Thankfully, he didn't have to rely on a situation like that to pull him out of the depths of boredom. He was on the fourth floor, idly glancing down the rows dedicated to the history section when he stopped in his tracks. There was someone perusing one of the shelves and although Derek could only see them in profile, it was a view that he was more than accustomed to. 

“Hey, Stuart.” 

“Derek,” Stuart acknowledged, slowly pulling a book off the shelf and adding it to a small stack beside his feet before he turned his head. “Stiles said you were gonna be here tonight. I was gonna come find you in a few minutes, but this works even better.” 

“Yeah, I guess it does.” Derek couldn't remember with certainty when he had seen Stuart last, aside from a few glimpses across campus or through a crowd in between classes. He wasn't sure how it had happened or if it _had_ happened at all (it might have been one of those 'absence makes the heart or, in this case, eyes, grow fonder' things) but he was pretty sure that Stuart had somehow gotten even more gorgeous in the time that had passed since their last face-to-face encounter. He had apparently decided to pass on growing out his facial hair and his eyes were piercing underneath the frames of his glasses. His hair was mostly stuffed underneath a black beanie and even though it was cool enough outside to need a jacket, the sleeves of his dark blue button-up were pushed up past his elbows. 

“It's good to see you again,” Derek finally said, awkwardly clearing his throat, aware that he'd been staring for far too long. 

“Yeah. You too,” Stuart said and the soft tone of his voice _really_ didn't match the way that his eyes were roaming over Derek's body. “Until Christmas, I actually didn't think that we were going to hear from you again.” 

“I didn't mean to take so long. It just... took a little longer than I expected, to figure things out.” 

“Derek, I'm not judging you. I'm glad you took that time... but only if you're _actually_ okay with everything. Stiles told me that everything went good... well actually, he said it went fucking great, but that's not the point. It's not that I don't trust him, it's just that I don't think he told you the whole story, at least from my perspective.” Stuart moved closer so that he was within arm's reach. It was obvious that he was gnawing on the inside of his cheek and in only a few moments, his gaze had gone from being almost lecherous to something far more vulnerable. 

“What do you mean?” Derek asked, genuinely confused and more than a little worried. Was there yet another aspect to the twin's relationship that he was still unaware of? 

“I don't know how exactly you wanted to do this,” Stuart started, his fingers tapping off the bookshelf that he was leaning against. “Like, we're still going to have to sit down and figure out the whole boundaries thing but... Derek, I don't date. I mean, there's been flings and shit, but I've never actually dated _anyone._ ” 

“Because of Stiles?” 

“That's part of the reason,” Stuart admitted with a shrug. “But mainly, it's just never appealed to me. And since we're only telling each other the truth from here on out, you need to know that I'm still not that kind of person. I mean, I like you, that's not up for debate, but going out to dinner or whatever, that still isn't something I want to do. That's more Stiles' thing. It's not something I'm ever going to be jealous about.” He took a deep breath and stepped even closer, close enough for his hand to brush over Derek's elbow. 

“Derek, I want to be part of _this_. I really do. But if you aren't okay with that, if you just want to be with Stiles, I'll understand. We can figure out the details the next time we see each other. I just needed to be honest with you.” He fell quiet after that, eyes trained on Derek's face, fingers still tapping against the shelf. Surprisingly, it only took Derek a few moments to come to a conclusion. 

He had spent the last few weeks tormenting himself, not only with the conflicting thoughts and feelings in his head, but with how to articulate those damn thoughts to both the twins and to himself. Frankly, he was sick of spending so much effort figuring how how to say a few damn words. 

Besides, his relationship with Stuart had always been more one of action than of dialogue. It only seemed appropriate to continue that tradition. 

All it took was a single step to close the space between them so that he could press his mouth against Stuart's, palms cradling his jaw. It was only supposed to be a quick thing, wasn't supposed to really go anywhere but just as he began to pull away, Stuart moaned quietly and yanked him back in, fingers wrapped into the front of his shirt. His back was pressed against the shelves and Derek pushed his hands back into Stuart's hair, shoving the beanie off his head. 

It had been way too long since he'd kissed Stuart and he'd nearly forgotten how different it was from kissing Stiles. It wasn't that one of them was better than the other; they were two entirely separate experiences and the thought that he was going to have access to both of them, to Stuart's carefully practiced tongue and Stiles' boundless enthusiasm, made his head spin. He could feel the warmth of Stuart's palms as he ran his hands down his back and when they slid underneath the hem of his shirt, Derek couldn't help but groan. When Stuart pulled away a few moments later, his pupils were blown wide behind his slightly askew glasses and his glimmering lips were swollen slightly. 

“That was a yes, by the way,” Derek said, his hands still locked into Stuart's hair. “I want you in this too.” Stuart grinned at him; not a smirk, a full-blown grin. 

“Awesome. In that case, I'm totally doing this.” His hands slid out from underneath the back of Derek's shirt and around to his front. Derek swallowed as Stuart's long fingers brushed over where his shirt had ridden up, exposing a line of skin above the waist of his jeans. He knew that, theoretically, they could probably get away with whatever Stuart planned on doing; after all, it wouldn't be the first time they'd done something together, hidden only by the shelves and on those occasions, the library had been _far_ more busy. But that had been in the past, when their relationship was a secret and now that they had turned over a new leaf, Derek kind of wanted to keep that stuff out of the library. There were plenty of other places they could do it, after all.

Kissing, however, was still totally acceptable. 

Before he had a chance to voice any of those thoughts though, Stuart plucked Derek's phone from the front pocket of his jeans, rapidly typed something in and slid it back in, patting Derek's leg. 

“I figured I'd finally give you my number, so that Stiles doesn't have to be our intermediary anymore,” he said, brushing his thumb over Derek's hipbone. 

“Well, I feel honored then,” Derek said and even as Stuart rolled his eyes, that grin popped back up onto his lips. 

“You should be. I don't give that number out to just anyone.” He leaned back in for another lingering kiss, his hands still sitting low on Derek's waist and if he didn't move those soon, Derek was seriously going to consider waiting another day to enforce his new 'no sex in the library' rule. Thankfully, after a few moments, Stuart took a step back and pushed his glasses up his nose, grin shifting into something more akin to his usual smirk. 

“Now, you wanna help me carry those downstairs?” he asked, nodding towards the stack of books that was still sitting on the floor. “I actually do need to check them out.”

&. 

Derek only had to wait until Wednesday to hang out with both of the twins at the same time. He had the night off and although there were some readings he _should_ have been doing, those got put on the back burner as soon as he got a text from Stiles, just as he exited the building he'd had his last lecture of the day in. 

**Stiles, 5:18PM:** whatcha doin right now? 

Derek waited until he had gotten through a massive clump of students clogging the walkway before sending a text back. 

_Derek Hale, 5:22PM:_ Just finished class for the day, was going to head home. why? 

Unsurprisingly, the next text message came before Derek had even walked ten feet.

 **Stiles, 5:23PM:** wanna come hang out? we're at home, i'm bored, stuart's cool with it. 

That cemented it for Derek; he fired off an affirmative response and turned around, walking towards the twin's apartment instead of his own. Truth be told, he had no idea what to expect when he arrived; were they going to get around to having that conversation about boundaries? Sure, he'd talked about the issue with both of the twins separately and they were both pretty clear on how they wanted things to work but, just for the sake of clarity, Derek still thought that it was a good idea for the three of them to do it together, just so that there were no more issues with communication. 

Maybe he was being overly cautious but he wasn't going to risk fucking things up again, not after he'd finally come to terms with his own mind. There was no way he was going to risk losing the twins over something that was completely preventable.

The walk to the twin's apartment took even less time than usual, mainly because Derek _may_ have been walking at a speed better described as a jog. He'd only made it halfway up the stairs before the door to their apartment flew open and Stiles came bounding out, a giant grin covering his face, wearing a gray t-shirt and a loose pair of shorts. 

“Hey!” It had only been a few days since Derek had seen him and they'd been texting almost constantly but still, Stiles looked like he hadn't seen him for weeks. It made Derek happy, he had to admit; it helped ease some of the self-doubt that was still niggling away in the back of his mind. 

“Hey,” he replied, finally reaching the tiny landing outside the Stilinski's door. He had just started to lean in for a kiss when Stiles met him halfway, his fingers wrapping around the collar of his jacket and tugging so that their bodies were pressed together. As always, his enthusiasm was boundless; his hands quickly moved from Derek's collar to his chest to his waist. It felt like he was trying to make up for lost time and there was no way that Derek was going to complain about it. Without moving away from Stiles' mouth, he walked them backwards until Stiles' back was pressed against the door. His own hands were pressed to the side of Stiles' neck and he could feel his pulse thrumming beneath his palms, rabbiting along like he'd run a mile. 

“It's nice to see you,” Stiles panted after he'd pulled away.

“I kind of got that from the kiss,” Derek said and Stiles just rolled his eyes, still grinning. 

“Whatever, dude. Believe it or not though, I didn't invite you over just to make out with you. Although if you just wanna do that, that's cool too. I definitely won't stop you.” Now it was Derek's turn to roll his eyes, even though he had to admit that making out with Stiles for a few straight hours sounded like a pretty great way to spend an evening. 

“What _did_ you have planned?” he asked instead, stepping away from the door so that Stiles could open it. 

“Mario Kart, actually, if you're down,” Stiles said, kicking his shoes towards the (already overflowing) closet in the hallway. “Or something like that. Just... it's just nice to be around you again, y'know?” 

“Mario Kart sounds great,” Derek said. “I've never actually played it.” 

“Serio? Well, I have to change that.” While Stiles went about setting the game up, Derek sat down on the couch, taking the middle spot. He had hardly gotten himself situated before the bedroom door opened up and Stuart walked out, balancing his laptop in one hand and covering up a yawn with the other one. 

“Cześć,” he said once he'd finished yawning. It looked like he hadn't left the house all day; his hair was even messier than usual and he was wearing a loose red v-neck and a pair of gray sweatpants that Derek recognized both from the video and from the last time Derek had come over. The mere reminder of both of those things made his face flush and based on how the corner of Stuart's mouth quirked up, it was a reaction that he caught. 

“Dude, you're wearing my shirt again,” Stiles muttered, glancing back over his shoulder as he fished another controller out from underneath the television. 

“Yeah, I am. It's comfortable,” Stuart shrugged before he plunked himself onto the couch and casually threw his legs over Derek's lap, back against the armrest. He didn't say anything but as soon as Derek looked over, Stuart flicked his eyes down to his legs and back up to Derek's face in a way that was obviously asking permission. Derek nodded and let his arms rest against Stuart's knees, just in time for Stiles to drop a controller into his hands. 

“Stuart, rusz się,” Stiles said, waving his hand at Stuart's feet. Stuart pulled them up onto Derek's thigh only long enough for Stiles to sit down; as soon as he was situated, Stuart stretched his legs out again, plunking his feet squarely into Stiles' lap. Stiles made a noise almost like a squawk but based on how he took a moment to rub his thumb along Stuart's ankle, Derek was pretty sure that it was just an automatic response. 

“Are you working on something for school?” Derek asked as Stuart adjusted his computer in his lap and pushed his glasses back up his nose. 

“Sort of. Mainly just looking over some of the readings for this semester,” he replied. “I like knowing what to expect ahead of time, unlike _someone_ that I know.” He deliberately jabbed at Stiles' leg with his foot and in return, Stiles slapped his shin. 

“I like surprises,” Stiles offered by way of explanation. “And besides, while _you're_ wasting your time, I'm going to show Derek the joys of Rainbow Road.” 

“Well, this ought to be interesting.” 

“Why do I have a bad feeling about this?” Derek asked, twiddling with the buttons on the controller, trying to resist running his hands up Stuart's legs because the sweatpants he was wearing were the very definition of the word soft. 

“Let's just say that if you throw the controller through our window, we won't make you pay for the damage,” Stuart said, obviously trying very hard to hide a smirk behind a disinterested expression. 

As it turned out, Derek only resisted throwing the controller because he didn't want the twins to incur any costs related to video game rage. He _did_ curse a lot, although it was nothing compared to what came out of Stiles' mouth. He'd heard the man swear before, had heard him whisper all sorts of wonderfully filthy things into his ear, but that was still nothing compared to the curse words he flung at the screen when he went plummeting off Rainbow Road for the tenth time. 

The only time Stiles actually fell silent, even for a few moments, was during the only game that Derek happened to win. He had just said something ridiculously vulgar and in response, Stuart closed his computer, moving it off of his lap and onto the floor. 

“Stiles,” he said quietly, shifting so that his arms were folded behind his head, “Powinieneś zachować to słownictwo dla sypialni.” Derek had absolutely no idea what the words meant but they had quite the effect on Stiles; his mouth dropped open and he turned his head to look at his brother, tongue flicking against his lips. 

“Man, you _gotta_ give me warning before you say stuff like that,” he laughed quietly but based on the fact that he'd completely stopped paying attention to the game, Derek didn't think that he really found the situation funny at all. 

“Why? This is way more fun. I'm sure Derek is thinking the same thing anyways.” Stuart leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Derek's cheek before he dragged his lips over to his ear. 

“Don't you think that Stiles should be saving those words for the bedroom?”

Derek drove his character straight into a wall and tried to ignore the fact that his face was definitely bright red. Stuart just chuckled and laid back down, wriggling himself further into the couch and shifting his feet in Stiles' lap.

“If you stop gaping like a fish anytime soon, you might be able to beat Derek again,” he said, nodding his head towards the television, where Stiles had plummeted from first place to seventh. He managed to get back up to third in the last lap but Derek still won, despite the fact that his face was burning from Stuart's comment. 

They played a few more rounds after that and although Stiles still cursed at the screen, he had gotten a little less vulgar. For his part, Stuart was mostly quiet; instead of opening his laptop again, he watched, occasionally commenting on someone's driving skills or reminding Derek to use a power-up that he had acquired. At one point, Derek asked if he wanted to play but Stuart shook his head and pushed the controller back into his lap. 

“I'm good. I'm just having fun appreciating the view.” 

Derek was pretty sure that it should have been illegal for someone his age to blush so much in such a contained time period. 

When they finished their last game, Stiles pushed Stuart's feet off of his lap and stood up. He stretched his arms above his head and the action exposed a slice of skin above the waistband of his shorts that Derek really wanted to mark with his mouth. 

“I'm gonna make popcorn. We've got pop and stuff in the fridge if you wanna come pick something out. Stu, you want anything?”

“Nic mi nie jest,” he answered. Stiles headed towards the kitchen but before Derek could get up to follow him, Stuart cleared his throat and nudged his leg slightly. 

“Does it bother you when we talk in Polski?” he asked, looking at Derek over the frames of his glasses. “Because if it does, we can stop.” 

“No,” Derek hurriedly said, “no, it doesn't bother me at all. I like it, actually.” He hadn't _meant_ for the words to sound so suggestible but Stuart still seemed to catch the implications, based on how he licked his lips slightly and smirked again. 

“Well, I'll keep that in mind.” 

When Derek walked into the (surprisingly clean) kitchen, Stiles had already tossed a bag of popcorn into the microwave and was sitting on the counter, hands drumming against the edge. 

“Pop's in the fridge,” he said. Derek grabbed the first can he saw (and noted the fact that the twins had a rather impressive collection of fridge magnets) but he sat it on the counter for the time being. Stiles was gnawing on the corner of his mouth, visibly worried about something. If it was something that Derek could fix, he was going to do his best to do just that.

“Are you alright?” he asked, moving so that he was standing in front of Stiles, who nodded. 

“Yeah. Well, sort of. It's just... are you sure you're alright with me and Stuart?” he sighed, swinging his feet back against the counter. “'Cause I don't want to make you uncomfortable, Derek, I don't want things to get all awkward just 'cause you feel like you have to put up with the two of us. I mean, I know you said you were fine with it but that was before you came over... so yeah. Just worried, that's all.”

“Stiles, I'm more than fine with the two of you,” Derek said, stepping forward and resting his hands just above Stiles' knees. “I... I can't really explain _why_ , but I am. I _was_ afraid that this might be awkward but it feels good. It feels like it's going to work.” It wasn't exactly the conversation about boundaries that he had been expecting but he was glad that Stiles had said something. They were already off to a better start regarding being honest with each other and he really, genuinely did believe that things between the three of them had a chance of working out. 

“Okay,” Stiles said quietly, dropping his hands onto Derek's before running them up his arms until they were around his neck. The microwave beeped and the whole room smelled like melted butter but based on how Stiles hooked his legs around Derek's thighs and pulled him closer, he had no immediate plans of moving. 

“You still owe me a month of kisses,” he murmured, his knees bracketing Derek's waist. “And I'd like to collect some more now, if that's cool with you.” 

“I'm more than fine with that too,” Derek replied, leaning in for a kiss, palms sliding further up Stiles' legs as he did so. By the time the incessant beeping of the microwave got too annoying to ignore, he was about ready to pull Stiles off the counter and carry him to the bedroom (but only after making a quick pit stop and grabbing Stuart as well). 

“Okay, so I think that was good for a few days,” Stiles panted, his fingers still threaded into Derek's hair. “But you still owe me at _least_ three more weeks of kisses.”

“You'll get all those and more,” Derek said and Stiles pressed one last kiss to the corner of his mouth before he hopped off the counter and grabbed the bag of popcorn out of the microwave. When they returned to the living room, Stuart was sitting up and looking down at his phone and before he could lay back down, Stiles (not so gently) shoved the back of popcorn into Derek's hands and practically dove onto the couch. 

“I call dibs on the middle!” Stuart just rolled his eyes and propped his legs up on the coffee table instead. 

“Fine. I already picked a movie.” Derek didn't recognize the title of the film, which was already playing, but apparently, Stiles did based on how he groaned exaggeratedly and propped his chin on Stuart's shoulder. 

“We're watching this _again?_ " 

“If you want to change it, you'll have to give up the middle,” Stuart said. Stiles appeared to consider the offer for all of a few seconds before he finally just shrugged and sprawled out with his head squarely in Derek's lap and his feet in Stuart's. It wasn't exactly what Derek had expected (and it briefly sent his imagination into overdrive) but he had no complaints. It meant that he was able to run one hand through Stiles' hair and eat popcorn at the same time and if that wasn't a good deal, he didn't know what was. 

Fifteen minutes into the movie, Derek realized that Stiles had fallen asleep with his face pressed against Derek's stomach, lips parted just slightly. For some reason, it was a sight that made everything truly click in Derek's head. If Stiles was comfortable enough to sleep around him, that was a good sign that they had truly made progress on moving past the bullshit they'd all subjected each other to. 

“He does that a lot.” On the other end of the couch, Stuart was slowly running his hands up and down Stiles' legs. “Falls asleep, I mean, when we're watching movies. Always has.” 

“I don't mind,” Derek shrugged, just as Stiles made a strange sniffling sound that shouldn't have been endearing. 

“Me neither.” For the rest of the movie, they stayed quiet but it didn't feel awkward at all; Derek just didn't feel pressured to start a conversation. By the time the film finished, it was nearly midnight; he hadn't meant to stay so long and he had to wake up early if he wanted to fit in a trip to the gym before his 8:30 class but he still deemed the whole thing worth it. Stiles started stirring just as the end credits began to blare and when Stuart wriggled out from underneath his feet to turn the television off, he sat up and groaned, burying a yawn into his arm. 

“You goin' home now?” he asked, voice still thick with sleep and Derek nodded. “'Kay. I'll walk you out.” 

“Me too,” Stuart said. While Derek pulled his boots back on, Stiles and Stuart murmured to each other in rapid-fire Polish. By the time he pulled his jacket back on, they had stopped and were both looking at him in a way that made him feel like they were trying to strip his clothes away with just their eyes. 

“So, we both want to kiss you goodnight,” Stuart said, “but frankly, we don't really know how you want to go about doing that.” 

“I mean, we could switch off every time we see each other,” Stiles continued with a shrug, “but I don't think that we'll be able to keep that accurate for very long. Any suggestions?” 

“Let's not overthink it,” Derek said. “For tonight... well, I kissed Stiles more-”

“I know, I could hear you two,” Stuart interrupted with a smirk.

“-so I guess it's only fair that Stuart goes first?” It felt strange to be negotiating something as simple as a kiss but regardless of how strange it felt, it was important. Surprisingly, Stuart's kiss was short and to the point, but it still made Derek bite back a groan. When they broke apart, Stiles was blatantly staring at them, mouth hanging open. 

“Holy hell,” he muttered. “That's something I gotta see more of.” 

“Oh, I'm sure you'll be seeing plenty of it,” Stuart said, grabbing the front of Stiles' shirt and yanking him across the hall. “Now get over here and kiss him before you fall asleep again.”

&. 

As the next few weeks went by, Derek settled into a pretty awesome routine. He still worked three shifts a week at the library and for most of those shifts, Stiles and Stuart were at their usual table, studying or occasionally fighting with each other. On Wednesdays, they usually got lunch together and Fridays swiftly became their designated hang-out days, where Derek would head over to their apartment with the intention of watching movies or playing more Mario Kart with Stiles or attempting to get some work done. 

Usually, those hang-out sessions just ended up dissolving into clumsy (but amazing) makeout sessions and as a result, Saturdays inevitably became his 'catch up on schoolwork and get laughed at by Erica because wow, look at those hickies!' day. 

But they never went beyond making out and truthfully, Derek didn't mind that, for the most part. After all, it was tricky enough trying to figure out the mechanics of kissing when there were three of you involved; turned out that porn made things look _way_ easier than they actually were. Besides that technical issue, he also thought it was good that they were actually taking their time for once, that they weren't just hopping back into things.

The days of mere makeout sessions came to an end on the last Wednesday in January. 

They were sitting in one of the booths in the coffee shop in the bottom floor of the Arts building. Per usual, Stiles was drinking something that had an absurd amount of whipped cream on top of it, some of which occasionally got stuck to the corner of his mouth (and which Derek dutifully kissed off; he was just making sure Stiles didn't make a fool of himself, after all). Stuart was sitting on the other side of the table, textbook open in front of him, drinking a coffee that looked black but which actually had a frankly ridiculous amount of sugar in it. Occasionally, he looked up from the book and muttered something about Stiles being a moron or Derek being boring but for the most part, he stayed quiet, rapidly scrawling notes. 

To anyone who passed by, Derek supposed that it probably looked like a pretty normal scene. But that was so long as they didn't look under the table because while Stuart legitimately _was_ doing schoolwork, he also had slipped his shoes off the instant they sat down and propped his legs up in Stiles' lap. Every time Stuart called his brother a moron, he also gently pressed his foot down, which led to Stiles making some very interesting noises and choking on his drink. 

Those noises in turn made Derek laugh, at least until Stuart shifted slightly and placed one of his feet in Derek's lap as well and started doing the same thing every time he called Derek boring. 

“So one of the student groups is showing a movie tonight,” Stuart said, eyes trained on his phone screen, a small smirk the only sign that he was also flexing his toes in Derek's lap at the same time. “It's a German movie that I've never heard of, but it sounds pretty cool.” 

“Is it free?” Stiles asked, taking another gulp of his drink. 

“Yes, Stiles, it's free,” Stuart replied, rolling his eyes. “We should go. Wanna come with us Derek?” Theoretically, Derek knew that he had work he should have been doing and groceries he should have been buying (Erica and Isaac had been dropping passive-aggressive hints at him for days about the state of their cupboards) but he could afford to put that off for another day. Besides, he'd never seen a German movie before. 

“Okay. What time is it?”

The movie started at seven and since Derek's last class of the day ended at four, he had enough time to go for a run and have a shower before he went back to the school. As he passed through the living room to get his boots on, Erica called his name from where she was perched on the couch, curled up with her laptop and a stack of library books. 

“Where are you going?” 

“Movie night at school,” he replied and as soon as the words left his mouth, she set her laptop aside and turned to face him, eyebrow raised. He couldn't help but groan; he'd been hoping to leave the house without being interrogated but per usual, that wasn't going to happen. 

“With the twins?” she asked. 

“Yes, Erica, can I go now?” She stayed still for a moment before she suddenly closed her computer and hopped off the couch, turning off the cooking show that was on the television. 

“Sure. I'm gonna go over to Boyd's. I'll probably stay the night there, if you know what I mean.” He genuinely didn't and after staring at her for a few moments with a raised eyebrow, she simply sighed exasperatedly and rolled her eyes. 

“Jesus Christ Derek, I'm preemptively sexiling myself. I'm doing you a favor.”

“What?” 

“Isaac's phone was acting up, but I'll try to let him know too. Be safe!” she called back over her shoulder before she disappeared into her room. Derek still had no real idea what she was talking about; it was just a movie night, after all. If sex hadn't factored into the numerous evenings he'd spent at the twin's apartment, how the hell was it supposed to factor into an event where he was likely going to be surrounded by at least a dozen other people? 

He really didn't understand how his sister thought sometimes. 

By the time he got back to the school and found the place that the movie was being presented in, it was just after seven o'clock. There was a projector screen set up at the front of the small room, which Derek was pretty sure was usually used by some of the clubs on campus. There were a number of worn-looking couches dotting the room, almost all of which were already completely occupied by students. The only exception was the one closest to the door on the left side of the room, which was where Stiles and Stuart were sitting. 

“We were starting to think that you were going to ditch us,” Stiles said as Derek sat down between him and his twin.

“My sister held me up.”

“Well, you didn't miss anything,” Stuart said. “They just introduced the film. Should be starting any second now.” Just as he said that, one of the people who had been standing at the front of the room walked to the back and flicked the lights off. For a few moments, the room was plunged into near-total darkness and almost simultaneously, Stiles kissed Derek's cheek and Stuart kissed his jaw. It was only when they did that that Derek realized just how close they were to him; the warm lines of their bodies were both pressed against him on either side from shoulder to knee. 

He had a feeling that getting through the movie was going to be more difficult than he had originally anticipated. 

Before he could return either of the kisses, the room lit up again as the film began to project onto the screen. After making sure that none of the other students were looking their way, he slung his arms over the back of the couch and gently brushed his thumbs against both of the twin's jaws. 

“Did you plan that?” he asked quietly, trying his best to stare straight ahead. 

“No,” Stiles murmured, turning his head and kissing the tip of Derek's thumb. “I guess great minds just think alike.” 

“That they do,” Stuart added, stretching his legs out and pushing his glasses up his nose. “Now be quiet, the movie's on.” 

Miraculously, despite the fact that both Stiles and Stuart were pressed up against him (and they both smelled _amazing_ ), Derek managed to pay attention to the movie for at least half an hour. Since he'd missed the introduction, he had absolutely no idea when the movie had been released but based on the fact that it was in black and white and the acting seemed a little overwrought, he had a feeling it was pretty old. Nonetheless, it was interesting and he found himself getting far more invested in the characters than he expected. 

And then he felt a hand drop onto his knee. It was on his left, which meant it was from Stiles and when Derek looked over at him, Stiles flashed him a quick smile before turning back to the film. Derek followed his example and tried very hard not to think about how much he wished that Stiles' hands were touching his bare skin. 

That thought got very hard to ignore when a hand dropped down onto his _other_ knee only moments later. When he looked the other direction, Stuart wasn't paying any attention to the film; he was looking only at Derek and as he winked, he slid his hand up just an inch or so further, an action that was mirrored by Stiles on the other side. Their hands were still in areas that Derek didn't consider to be _too_ inappropriate for a public setting but if they moved any further, they were definitely going to be veering into dangerous territory. 

They crossed that line only a minute later. This time, Stiles moved first, fingers trailing along the inside of Derek's thigh. When Derek glanced over, Stiles had apparently given up on even pretending to watch the film; his lips were parted and he was looking downwards at where his hand had stopped moving again. Stuart quickly followed suit and Derek sucked in a breath through his nose, digging his fingers into the twin's shoulders. 

“Did you plan _this_?” he muttered, resting his head against the back of the couch and closing his eyes, very grateful that every other student in the room seemed completely absorbed by the film. 

“Yeah,” Stiles admitted, fingers moving even further upwards. “We kind of did.”

“Want us to stop?” Stuart asked on his other side, flattening his palm against Derek's thigh, fingers just brushing over the zipper of his jeans. “We will if you want us to. Right, Stiles?” 

“Uh-huh.” Stiles' fingers joined his brother's on Derek's zipper and Derek could feel Stiles' warm breath on his neck, followed by the graze of his lips against his jaw. “Obiecuję.” For the time being, their hands had actually stopped moving and although the light pressure of their intertangled fingers was still distracting, he managed to think the situation through fairly quickly. At any moment, someone could turn around and see what was going on and frankly, even if the person never said anything, that was just going to be embarrassing for everyone involved. Despite that risk, Derek didn't want them to stop but more than that, he wanted to actually be able to respond, wanted to be able to kiss both Stiles and Stuart and run his hands over their skin as well. 

“No,” he finally said quietly, opening his eyes again. “I don't want you to stop. But I don't want to do this here.” 

“Your place or ours then?” Stuart murmured in his ear, his fingers tightening against Derek's dick. It took all of a second for Derek to make a choice and he made a mental note to buy Erica a cake or something, or congratulate her on her foresight at the very least. 

“Mine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter is going to be so much fun to write...
> 
> as always, a big thanks to wenyavie for helping with the translations! 
> 
> Serio? = Really?  
> Cześć = Hey  
> Rusz się = Move your feet.  
> Powinieneś zachować to słownictwo dla sypialni = you should save words like that for our bedroom.  
> Nic mi nie jest = No I'm okay.  
> Polski = Polish  
> Obiecuję = I promise.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, here we are, the penultimate chapter of Seeing Double! I mean it this time; there's only one more left after this, and I'm hoping to have it out by Christmas. Additionally, I've updated the tags to reflect what occurs in the chapter and I hope that you all enjoy it. (:

Although Derek had never considered himself to be much of an actor, he thought that they all deserved some kind of award for putting up such a convincing facade of normalcy as they walked back to his apartment. Even though there was nothing that he wanted more than to kiss the twins, that simply wasn't an option. There were too many damn people on the streets, headed to and from campus. Whenever he thought that the coast was clear, someone would turn a corner or step out onto their deck and he'd have to take a step back, falling back into the small talk that they were somehow continuing along with, even though he could just tell that Stiles and Stuart were facing the same problem he was. 

At the very least, he could hold Stiles' hand without getting too many weird stares. It was just enough to tide him over. 

Even when they got past the front door of his apartment building, Derek managed to hold himself back. Sure, they only had to take the elevator three floors up, but the chances of running into one of his neighbors was just too damn high. So for the few seconds it took for the doors to creak open again, Derek squeezed Stiles' hand (which felt like it was about to twitch right off his body) and tried to resist kissing Stuart, who was pressed against his side despite the abundance of room in the elevator. 

Mercifully, the corridor was empty and as Derek fumbled his keys out of his pocket, he could feel warm breath washing over both sides of his neck, could feel the ghosts of lips just barely touching his skin. It was a position that could easily be explained away if someone _did_ happen to walk out of their apartment but it was enough to make him jam the wrong key into the lock, a mistake that he quickly corrected.

As soon as he shut the door behind them, that facade _shattered._

Once he'd dropped his keys back into his pocket, Derek kicked his boots off. Before the second one had even hit the floor, there was a thud as Stuart crowded Stiles up against the nearest wall, kicking his shoes off behind him. 

“Am I allowed to look at the apartment first?” Stiles asked, long fingers already pushing into Stuart's hair. 

“No,” Stuart said, wasting no time in pressing his mouth against Stiles'. Although it was an action that Derek had seen dozens of times, it still fixed him to the spot for a few moments. Stiles and Stuart seemed to fit together perfectly, like two seamless parts of a whole; when one pushed, the other pulled and (not for the first time), Derek felt like this was a sight he shouldn't have been privy to, let alone be involved in. Stuart's hands were settled low on Stiles' waist, pushing his shirts up his stomach but after a moment, without breaking the kiss, he reached backwards with one arm, twitching his fingers like he was beckoning Derek over. 

How was he supposed to refuse an invitation like that?

He shrugged his jacket off onto the floor (hanging it up could wait) before stepping closer and thankfully, he didn't have to spend any time trying to figure out exactly how to integrate himself into the kiss. Stuart's fingers closed around his wrist and pulled until Derek's hand was settled on his hip. It only made sense to mirror the action with his other hand and when Stuart tilted his head, making it very obvious that he was tugging on Stiles' lower lip with his teeth, the collar of his shirt shifted, revealing a path of smooth skin that Derek planned on fully exploring. He started just above the jut of his collarbone, gently pressing his teeth into Stuart's skin. Stuart moaned and pressed his ass back against Derek.

“Fuck,” he sighed, his hips rolling away again and based on the curse that fell from Stiles' lips, Stuart had just pressed up against him. Derek felt Stiles' fingers running through his hair, nails scratching against his scalp and when he looked up from where he'd managed to suck a bruise into the base of Stuart's throat, he realized that the twins weren't actually kissing anymore. Stuart's forehead was resting against Stiles' and his fingers were working on unbuttoning Stiles' plaid shirt. He seemed to be fumbling slightly with the task, like his hands were shaking and truthfully, Derek couldn't blame him. Sure, things were going better than he'd anticipated but still, this was unlike anything he'd ever done. 

The fact that both of them were actually _here_ , all warm mouths and inquisitive fingers, was enough to make him dizzy with want. 

By the time Stuart's fingers finished popping the last button on Stiles' shirt, Derek had started with the lowest button on Stuart's. Apparently, Stiles had been thinking the same thing and after a brief moment involving tangled arms, Stiles started on the top button. Before he moved any further, Derek couldn't help but take a moment to push his hands underneath Stuart's shirts and drag his fingers along the line of his low-slung jeans. In response, he pushed his hips back again and this time, Derek was the one cursing, muffling a quiet _fuck_ against Stuart's throat. 

And then, Derek heard a creak. Immediately, he froze, afraid that someone was home; sure, Erica had sexiled herself but she had mentioned that Isaac's phone had been acting up. Was there a chance that his brother had come home? However, when Stuart pressed himself back against Stiles, the creak sounded again and this time, Stiles dropped his hands from Stuart's shirt and started laughing. 

“Derek, how much faith do you have in this wall?” he asked and despite his easy laughter, when he caught Derek's eye over Stuart's shoulder, it was easy to see in his blown pupils and his flushed face that this was just a momentary setback. 

“Not enough,” Derek admitted and Stuart snorted, stepping backwards and forcing Derek to move as well. 

“Then I vote we move this to the bedroom, before someone gets hurt,” Stuart said, popping open the one button on his shirt that neither Stiles or Derek had gotten to. 

“Lead the way, big guy,” Stiles added and it was a ridiculous phrase, one that should have been making Derek roll his eyes. Instead, he had to force himself to swallow back a groan. 

Although the bedroom was mere feet away, it was at least another five minutes before they stepped through the door. Their progress was marked by a trail of clothes; socks, Derek's belt, both Stiles and Stuart's overshirts. The structural integrity of nearly every section of the wall between the entranceway and his bedroom was tested and there were some moments where Derek wasn't exactly sure who he was kissing, who he was touching, who was pressing their teeth into his neck and who was palming at his dick through his jeans. It was chaos and yet, he didn't think that he'd ever been turned on in his entire life. More than that, he'd never felt so _wanted_ , by anyone.

Just as they reached his bedroom, he lost his henley, pulled over his head by both of the twins. He just barely had the foresight to pull the door shut behind them, just in case someone happened to come home. Derek couldn't guarantee that they wouldn't hear anything (Stuart's moans and curses were louder than usual and Stiles... well, he was just loud all the time) but at the least, he could prevent his siblings from seeing anything that would scar them for life. 

“I'm glad we're doing this here,” Stiles said, his warm mouth pressing against the back of Derek's neck. “Our beds are way too small for this.” 

“I'm sure we could have made it work,” Derek said, hooking his fingers into the hem of Stuart's shirt and sliding it upwards until Stuart finished the job, knocking his glasses askew. He was sure that between the three of them, they would have figured out a way to make things work at the twin's apartment. Still, at least for their first time, he _was_ glad that they were using his bed. 

It _had_ always seemed too large for one person. Hopefully, it would be big enough for three of them.

Although he had pictured literally dozens of situations in his head over the past few months, Derek wasn't exactly sure what the best way to go about things was. He wasn't sure what Stiles and Stuart wanted to do, if they had strict preferences or lines they didn't want to cross. He didn't think so, but since he was fine with anything they proposed, he figured it was best to leave it up to them. 

“How do you want to do this?” he asked, swallowing as someone's fingers popped open the button of his jeans. “Anything you want to do, it's all up to you.” 

“I like the sound of that,” Stuart murmured, leaning in for another open-mouthed kiss, his tongue trailing along the edges of Derek's teeth. His palms were dragging down Derek's chest and Stiles was pressed against Derek's back, long fingers tugging the zipper of Derek's pants down. It was all Derek could do to keep track of where his own hands were in the fray. 

“Stiles, what was it you were saying the other night?” Stuart asked after he pulled away, reaching over Derek's shoulder and pulling Stiles to his side by the fabric of his shirt. “You know, the conversation we had the last time Derek was over, after he left?” The words seemed to have an immediate impact on Stiles, as his already red face flushed even more. 

“Stu, nie mówiłem poważnie,” Stiles said. “If you want to-”

“You _were_ being serious,” Stuart interrupted, pushing his hands into Stiles' already tousled hair. It was hard to tell based solely on the angle but Derek was pretty sure that Stuart was pulling it, based on the way Stiles' eyes fluttered closed and his mouth dropped open. “Tell Derek what you told me. If he doesn't mind, neither do I.” When Stiles didn't answer for a few moments, panting slightly, Stuart's hand fitted itself against his jaw and thumbed at his parted lips, making another groan fall from his mouth. 

“Stiles, powiedz mu.”  This time, Stiles nodded and stepped away so that he was squarely in front of Derek, hands at his side like he'd forgotten what to do with them. 

“I said that I called dibs on you fucking me first,” he said quietly but confidently, his eyes unabashedly locked on Derek's. “I mean, only if you're okay with it-” 

“Yeah,” Derek broke in, unable to keep himself from interrupting. “Yeah, I'm definitely okay with that.” He hauled Stiles in for another kiss, pressing his teeth into the younger man's already swollen lip, only pulling away when Stuart began to tug Stiles' shirt over his head. 

“Well, Stiles, I guess it's your lucky day,” Stuart grinned and the look he shot Derek as he brushed his lips up Stiles' neck was the very definition of pornographic. “Because I call dibs on taking the edge off.” 

That was how Derek found himself sitting with his back against his headboard, jeans discarded somewhere on the floor, left in only his boxers. Stiles' back was pressed against his chest, for the most part, at least; he kept jolting upwards, hips bucking towards Stuart, who had his mouth wrapped around Stiles' cock. His glasses kept sliding down his nose and every time he peeked up over the frames, catching Derek's eye, he somehow managed to quirk his lips up into a smirk.

“Oh my God,” Stiles groaned, his hips pressing up against Derek's arms, which were wrapped around his waist. His head was tossed back against Derek's shoulder and when he wasn't gasping or slurring, he was mouthing against Derek's jaw, leaving messy, wet kisses along his throat. One of his hands flailed out and landed in Stuart's hair, fingers tightening in the short strands. The moan the action ripped from Stuart's throat was surprisingly loud, even with his mouth occupied, and Derek filed that image away for the future. 

“Shit, was that too hard?” Stiles asked and Derek hadn't known that it was possible for someone to sound both concerned and aroused, all at the same time. Stuart pulled off and shook his head, pushing his glasses back up his nose. 

“No,” he said, licking a stripe up Stiles' cock. Stiles cursed again and scraped his teeth along Derek's neck, just as Stuart leaned up slightly, his hands smoothing over where Derek's were sitting on Stiles' hips. 

“Pull as hard as you want,” he murmured, licking his swollen lips. “Both of you.” With that, he slid back down and Stiles went back to pulling his hair again. As Stuart continued, Stiles became even more restless. Every time his hips arched up against Derek's arms, the movement made the fabric of Derek's boxers brush over his cock and Derek had to bury a curse into Stiles' hair, fingers biting into the younger man's hips. 

As Stuart's mouth began to bob faster, meeting where his hand was wrapped around the base of Stiles' dick, Stiles lost seemingly all control of his filter between languages. He gasped words against the side of Derek's neck, mingled in with desperate kisses and bites and for every one that Derek understood, there were a dozen that he couldn't recognize. Some seemed vaguely familiar, like English and Polish slurred together.

“Doskonale,” Stiles groaned, his teeth scraping over Derek's jugular, spreading his legs wider as he pressed upwards into Stuart's mouth. “Perfect, both of you, so fucking good.” He tilted his head back until Derek could feel his lips and teeth brushing over his earlobe. 

“God, can't wait to get your dick inside me,” he panted, coming more and more undone with every additional word he uttered. “Od dawna na to czekałem, wanted all of this for-” Suddenly, his entire body went taut and his words disintegrated into a loud, sharp cry. His body stayed tense for a few long moments and Derek pressed his lips against Stiles' temple, only barely aware that he was murmuring _so amazing, Stiles_ against his flushed skin. Stuart only pulled away when Stiles slumped back against Derek's chest, panting, his eyes still closed. Stuart's lips were swollen and Derek couldn't help but groan when he wiped a stray droplet of come from the corner of his mouth. His other hand trailed along the inside of Stiles' thighs and Stiles twitched, halfheartedly kicking out at his twin. 

“Derek, do you have lube?” Stuart asked. “'Cause if we need some, I've-”

“No, we're good,” Derek said, running his fingers along the sharp vee of Stiles' hips. “I'll get it.” Doing that required him to unravel his arms from Stiles' waist and awkwardly wriggle his way out from behind him. As soon as Derek managed to move, Stiles flopped back against the pillows, eyes still closed. His entire body was flushed and his hair was an absolute mess. He already looked thoroughly debauched and Derek couldn't wait to see how he looked after all was said and done. 

“Roll over,” Stuart said, slapping lightly at Stiles' knee as Derek reached into his bedside drawer. 

“'M not ready yet,” Stiles mumbled. 

“I know. I'm going to start _getting_ you ready.” After a few moments, recognition dawned on Stiles' face. 

“I fucking love you,” he sighed, a lazy grin sliding onto his face as he rolled over hastily, remarkably energetic despite how lethargic he'd been only seconds before. Once he'd flipped onto his stomach, he got his knees underneath him and tilted his hips back, pushing his ass into the air. Stuart just smirked and pulled his glasses off, passing them over to Derek, who had been frozen for the last few moments, holding a bottle of lube from his bedside table. 

“Can you put those somewhere?” Stuart asked. “I really don't wanna break them, especially not doing this.” 

“Yeah,” Derek said with a swallow. He sat Stuart's glasses on top of a stack of books and although he had taken his eyes off of the twins for no longer than a few seconds, it was apparently long enough for Stuart to get down to business. Stuart's thumbs were pressing into the top of Stiles' thighs and as Derek watched, Stuart poked his tongue out and swiped it over Stiles' hole, making his twin groan and press his face into the pillow underneath his head. 

“You're gonna kill me,” Stiles slurred. “Both of you.” 

“Would that be so bad?” Stuart asked, making another pass with his tongue, making Stiles curse again. Derek knew that he was just staring but he couldn't find the willpower to move. He had imagined a _lot_ of things over the past few months, including the sight before him, but he had resigned himself to the fact that a number of those images were probably going to stay within the confines of his imagination. He'd been fine with that. He'd never thought that he would have been lucky enough to actually witness _this_ , witness Stuart licking Stiles open in his own bed. 

“Derek, get over here, now,” Stiles groaned, his fingers flexing into the already rumpled sheets. He canted his hips up higher and Stuart adjusted accordingly, using his palms to push Stiles' legs further apart. Derek finally managed to snap out of his stillness, setting the lube aside before he moved over. He wasn't exactly sure how to fit into things or where he could get involved but thankfully, Stiles didn't seem to want anything too complicated. He turned his head so that Derek could see his face and it didn't look like there was any amber left in his eyes, just dark, lust-blown pupil. 

“Like what you see?” he panted, his eyes falling closed again, pink lips curving around a moan. He wasn't the only one enjoying himself; around the wet sounds of his tongue working at Stiles', Stuart was panting as well, occasionally making tiny sighing noises that made Derek's cock twitch. 

“I think you know the answer to that,” Derek said, pushing a few strands of Stiles' hair away from his forehead. He brushed his thumb along Stiles' sharp cheekbones and he had just started to trace the line of his jaw when Stiles turned his head and wrapped his lips around two of Derek's fingers, just in time to muffle another one of his moans. The inside of his mouth was wet and astoundingly warm, which just made Derek think about how warm the rest of his body was going to feel. 

“I think you're going to kill _me_ ,” he murmured, smoothing his other hand down Stiles' back. He could feel the muscles shifting underneath his skin, flexing as his hips pushed back against Stuart's mouth. Stiles said something but between the fact that his lips were still wrapped around Derek's fingers and the way he cried out when Stuart did something, it was impossible to tell what the words were, or even what language they had been in. Stuart pulled back, his lips red and swollen, his smirk full-blown. 

“Your turn,” he said, voice no more than a rasp. “I'll be right back.” When he leaned back onto his knees, there was a tiny wet spot on the front of his gray boxer-briefs and Derek was suddenly overcome with the urge to run his tongue over the damp fabric. Before he could make a move, Stuart left the room, which left him and Stiles alone. Stiles finally let Derek's fingers out of his mouth with a slick pop and although they were glistening with spit, Derek grabbed the lube as well. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, just to be sure. “I can wait-” 

“Derek, I've never been better,” Stiles said, his fingers still wrapped into the sheets, flashing a smile back over his shoulder. Although Derek knew it was a strange feeling to have right in the middle of a threesome, he couldn't deny the strange way his heart reacted to that statement. 

“Me neither,” he answered truthfully, sliding down the bed further until he was between Stiles' long legs, which were still splayed apart. “But let me know if you need me to slow down.” 

“Alright, just _please_ don't make me wait much longer.” He tilted his hips back again and Derek trailed his fingers down Stiles' spine, moving lower and lower to where he was still wet from Stuart's mouth. If it wasn't obvious from the noises that had fallen from Stiles' mouth, Stuart had done a thorough job at licking him open; the first of Derek's fingers slid in with little resistance and he crooked it a few times, watching as Stiles' back arched. 

“That's good,” he groaned, pressing his hips back against Derek's hand, “so good, Derek.” 

“Do you want more?” Stuart asked as he came back into the room, slamming the door shut. His face looked damp and when he got closer, Derek could smell the sharp scent of mouthwash. Stuart grabbed his glasses off of the table before he got back onto the bed, sitting on his knees next to Stiles. 

“Stiles,” he prompted, his hand reaching underneath Stiles' stomach and presumably brushing over his cock, which Derek was pretty sure was hard again. Stamina was a wonderful thing to have. “Do you want more?” 

“Yeah,” Stiles panted, “yeah, more, please.” Derek did as he was asked, pressing a second finger in and this time, Stiles full on whimpered, the noise muffled only slightly as he pressed his face into Derek's pillow. 

“Dobrze,” Stuart murmured, leaning in and pressing a kiss against Stiles' shoulder. “Tak dobrze, Stiles.” He trailed his mouth along Stiles' neck to his ear before he moved, sliding further down the bed until he was pressed against Derek's back, chin resting on his shoulder. Surprisingly, he didn't say anything for a long while; he stayed quiet, slowly rutting against the back of Derek's thigh, his hands splayed on Derek's hips. After a few moments, Derek added a third finger, crooking them at at the first knuckle and the noise that left Stiles' mouth was unlike anything he'd ever heard. It sounded like a full-blown sob and Derek could feel Stuart sigh against his neck, lips dragging over his skin. 

“That sound kills me every time,” he groaned, voice still a little raspy. One of his hands trailed down to where Derek was working Stiles open, long fingers brushing against Derek's as he pressed them into the second knuckle. The other slid into his boxers and wrapped around his achingly hard cock. The touch came as such a surprise that Derek pressed his fingers forward a little harder than he'd intended to. Before he could apologize, Stiles let out another sob and pushed his hips backwards again. 

“Derek, please,” he groaned, “I'm so ready, _please_ , just fuck me.” In order to get his boxers off, Derek had to momentarily stand up and in that time, Stuart fished a condom out of the bedside drawer, which Derek had never closed after he'd grabbed the lube. He opened the wrapper and tossed it to the floor but when Derek reached out for it, Stuart just grinned up at him and slid closer again. 

“I want to do it.” He leaned in for another kiss while his hands rolled the condom down onto Derek and even after that was done, Derek couldn't find it in himself to stop kissing Stuart. It was only when Stiles whined that he pulled away, feeling like his head was going to explode.

“Sorry,” he apologized and Stiles snorted, getting his knees completely under him and propping himself up on his hands. 

“I'll forgive you if you stop making me wait,” he replied and even though he had been whining only seconds before, Derek could still hear the edge in his voice, an edge that reminded Derek of the video that had really set this whole thing in motion, where Stiles had _growled_ at his brother to spur him on. But those were thoughts for another time. The mattress creaked under his knees as he shuffled back over, smoothing one hand down Stiles' mole-spattered back as he held himself at Stiles' hole. 

“Ready?” He had to ask, had to be sure. 

“Derek, _teraz_ ,” he said and _there_ was the growl Derek had been thinking about. More importantly, that was the permission he wanted so he slowly pressed forward, a groan spilling from his mouth as tight warmth surrounded him. Stiles let out a choked moan, his head lolling on his neck and for a moment, Derek was so struck by how gorgeous Stiles was that everything else seemed completely unimportant. 

At least, that was until Stuart pressed against his back again, his boxer-briefs apparently shed and Derek remembered that both of them were gorgeous and he did _not_ deserve this, not in a million years.

“God, both of you,” he started, trailing off when he realized that he had no idea how to put his thoughts into words that didn't sound absurd or overblown. Thankfully, Stuart just nodded, mouth pressed against the junction of Derek's shoulder and throat. 

“I was thinking the same thing,” he sighed. His cock was pressing against Derek's ass, leaving a smear of pre-come behind on his skin. Derek pressed back against him, wanting the warm line of Stuart's body to be as close as possible. Stuart sighed again, one of his hands splayed on Derek's stomach, while the other trailed down his back to-

Oh. _Oh._

“Someday,” Stuart murmured, his voice sinfully low, “not today, but someday, could we try that?” It was definitely something Derek had thought about before; he'd imagined what it would feel like to be in the middle, to be surrounded by warm, tight heat and filled up at the same time. The very thought made his head spin, but Stuart was right, tonight wasn't the night for that. It was an idea that they'd have to plan out ahead of time, in order to figure out the mechanics but it was _definitely_ something Derek wanted.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, fitting his hands to Stiles' hips, pressing back against where Stuart's lube-slick fingers were brushing over him. “Yeah, I want that, I do.” 

“Great,” Stuart said as he pressed the tip of his finger into Derek. “I've got so many ideas, so many things that I want us to do. So does Stiles, right?” 

“Uh-huh,” Stiles panted, pressing his hips back against each of Derek's slow thrusts. “So many ideas, _God_ , faster, please move faster.” Derek did as he was asked and the next few minutes dissolved into a haze of sensation. Stuart continued to leisurely rut against him, slowly crooking his fingers inside him like he had all the time in the world. Stiles kept cursing and moaning, pushing his hips back to meet every one of Derek's thrusts. Both of them seemed to have lost control over their language filter, although Stiles' case was definitely worse. Most of his words were slurred, an indistinguishable cross between languages. Although Stuart was still speaking mostly in full sentences, he was constantly switching between Polish and English. Derek had never heard him sound so flustered, like he'd completely given up on trying to stay cool and collected. Derek had to admit, it was an accomplishment he was rather proud of (one he was more than willing to share with Stiles). 

By the time Stiles called Stuart's name, Derek could feel himself getting close and truthfully, he was amazed he'd been able to hold back for so long, considering the complete sensory overload he was being subjected to.

“Stuart, chodź tutaj,” he groaned, looking back over his shoulder. “C'mere, please.” 

“You sure?” Stuart asked, actually sounding hesitant. “I don't want to-”

“I wasn't asking,” Stiles interrupted, licking his lips. Stuart pressed a quick kiss underneath Derek's ear and crooked his fingers one more time before he moved away to the head of the bed. Balancing himself on one arm, Stiles flailed out for his hip but Stuart shook his head, passing his hand through Stiles' hopelessly disheveled hair. 

“You'll hurt yourself if you try that,” Stuart said. “It'll work better if-” 

“Stu, for the love of fuck, I just wanna suck your dick,” Stiles slurred, the longest fully coherent sentence he'd managed in a long time. “Just hurry the hell up, _please._ ”

“Jesteś taki niecierpliwy,” Stuart sighed but if he'd meant to sound annoyed, he failed spectacularly. He had hardly gotten his back pressed against the headboard before Stiles dropped down again, supporting himself on his elbows. It put him in the right spot to reach Stuart's dick and apparently, he didn't waste any time, based on how Stuart gasped and tilted his head back against the wall, a muscle clenching in his jaw. The change in position also changed things for Derek; it let him press in deeper and he groaned, digging his fingers into Stiles' hip. He leaned forward so he could reach around Stiles' waist with his other hand and wrap his fingers around Stiles' cock. Stiles' moan was muffled but Stuart definitely felt it, based on how he cursed and scratched at Stiles' shoulders, leaving red lines behind that quickly faded. 

Surprisingly, it was Stiles who came first. Derek could see his fingers digging into Stuart's thighs and he was so tight around him that it was nearly painful. He was breathing in deeply through his nose and even though his lips were still wrapped around Stuart's dick, Derek could still hear him moaning. Stuart was moaning too and his toes were curling into the sheets. His glasses were sitting low on his nose and it looked like he was mere moments away from falling apart himself. 

With a sight like that in front of him, how was Derek supposed to hold himself back?

A few more thrusts was all it took for him to come as well, his eyes slammed closed. Even through the haze of his orgasm, he could hear Stiles' harsh breathing, mingled together with the noises falling from Stuart's mouth. When Derek opened his eyes again, it was just in time to see Stuart pull his hand away from Stiles' hair and tap his shoulder, his chest heaving. 

“Fuck, Stiles, I'm gonna come,” he panted but despite the warning, Stiles didn't pull away. He just kept smoothly bobbing his head, whimpering when Derek slowly pulled out of him. It was only a few moments later that Stuart groaned and arched his back away from the headboard, his eyes closed, mouth dropped open. Even after Stuart had slumped back against the wall, panting for breath, Stiles didn't move until Stuart hit his shoulder again. 

“Przestań,” he gasped, “too sensitive.”

“Sorry,” Stiles said before he rolled over onto his back, throwing an arm over his eyes. Derek got up (on unsteady legs) only long enough to toss the condom into his trash can before he laid back down as well. Stiles' body was almost fever-warm where it was pressed against his side and there was come drying on his flat stomach and the sheets.

“Holy crap,” Stiles rasped after a few long moments punctuated only by their breathing, “we actually just did that.” He dropped his arm from his eyes and looked at Derek and Stuart in turn, his swollen lips turned up into a grin. “Fuck, we _actually_ did that.” 

“Yeah,” Derek replied. His hand was brushing over Stiles' and he turned his palm up, moving until their fingers were intertwined. “We did.” 

“And it was amazing,” Stuart said, pulling his glasses off and rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “And exhausting.” There was no arguing with that; even though it couldn't have been any later than nine thirty, Derek was already tired. If it wasn't for the fact that he felt like there was an inch of sweat on every inch of his skin, he would have been more than happy to simply fall asleep. 

“Derek, can I ask you something?” When Derek looked over, Stiles looked like he was ready to pass out as well, even though his face was still plastered with a beaming grin. 

“Sure.” 

“Why are you doing a masters in history?” Derek didn't know what he'd been expecting, but it certainly hadn't been that. Nonetheless, it was an innocent enough question so he shrugged, squeezing Stiles' hand again. 

“I want to be a professor, at some point.” The words had hardly left Derek's mouth before Stuart groaned and when Derek glanced over, his face was even more flushed. 

“What?” Derek asked, unable to keep the amused tone out of his voice. He was pretty sure it was the first time he'd ever seen Stuart blush and for all he knew, it was going to be the last time as well. 

“Stuart has a thing for profs, always has. He _also_ has a thing for teaching assistants,” Stiles replied, punctuating his words by lazily jabbing Stuart in the ribs. 

“I thought we were over that,” Stuart muttered, sliding down the wall until he was laying on his back. “That was months ago. Besides, it's not going to happen again anytime soon, not after this.” 

“Good,” Stiles said and Derek turned and pressed a kiss against his forehead before he sat up again. 

“I need a shower.” 

“'M not moving,” Stiles yawned. “Too tired. I'll clean up later.” 

“I'll wait,” Stuart added, yawning as well. “I just need to close my eyes for a bit.” That was an excuse Derek had heard from his siblings plenty of times and sure enough, when he came back from his brief shower, his sheets were on the floor and both of the twins were asleep, covered with a blanket that had been kicked off the bed when they'd first fallen onto it. Stuart was still wearing his glasses and when Derek carefully pulled them off, he stirred slightly, shifting closer to where Stiles was sprawled on his stomach. 

“Dziękuję,” he murmured. After he'd pulled on a clean pair of sweatpants, Derek flicked the light off and picked his way back across the clothes strewn floor. He had to lift up Stiles' arm in order to actually get onto the bed but aside from that little issue, there was more than enough room for the three of them. 

Amazing as the night had been, it really had been exhausting and despite his shower, Derek was still nowhere near awake enough to think about what had taken place on any deeper level. So he simply moved closer and fell asleep with Stiles' arm draped over his waist.

&. 

When Derek woke up again, the room smelled different. Although the scent of sex still lingered, it was mostly covered up by shampoo and mouthwash. When Derek turned his head, damp hair tickled his chin. Stiles (or maybe it was Stuart, he couldn't tell in the dark) was fast asleep again but at some point, they'd obviously found enough energy to have a shower. 

He had no idea what time it was; there was no sign of the sun peeking through his curtains, so it had only been a few hours since he'd passed out. While he wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep, the inside of his mouth was bone dry and trying to ignore that was just going to result in a lot of tossing and turning. So he reluctantly slid out from underneath's someone's arm and padded into the kitchen, blinking wearily as his eyes adjusted to the bright light. According to the clock on the microwave, it was just past midnight, which explained why he was still so tired. 

He'd just grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge when he heard soft footsteps behind him. When he turned around, one of the twins was standing in the kitchen doorway and it took Derek a moment to realize that it was Stuart. 

He was really glad the twins didn't have identical moles. That would have made things _really_ difficult.

“Hey,” Stuart yawned, running his fingers through his still-damp hair. “I finally managed to wake Stiles up for a shower about an hour ago. We borrowed some of your shampoo.” 

“You also borrowed my pants,” Derek noted, nodding at the flannel pajama pants Stuart was wearing. Even with the drawstring tied up, they were obviously too big, sitting obscenely low on his hips. 

Derek _definitely_ needed to do laundry the next chance he got. 

“Yeah. Hope you don't mind.” 

“No, it's fine.” Derek passed Stuart another bottle of water and by the time the gross feeling in his mouth was gone, he'd downed nearly the entire bottle. Stuart was leaning against the counter beside him and Derek could feel his eyes on him. 

“What?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. Stuart's long fingers were twiddling with the cap for his water bottle, which was apparently forgotten on the counter beside him. For a few long seconds, he just kept looking, eyes open and wide (probably to compensate for not having his glasses on) and even though he really was tired, Derek could feel his face flushing with warmth. 

“I was just thinking about what you said earlier,” Stuart finally said. “About what you wanted to try. Did you mean it?” 

“Yes,” Derek answered with no hesitation. “I did, Stuart. You two aren't the only ones who have all sorts of ideas.” 

“Really?” Stuart murmured in a tone that Derek was _definitely_ familiar with. Flicking the bottle cap onto the counter, he moved so that he was standing in front of Derek, arms on either side of him, hardly an inch of space between them. 

“Do you want to tell me some of them?” he asked quietly, so close that Derek could feel his breath brushing against his jaw. “If you're not too tired, that is.” His mouth latched onto Derek's neck and he sucked the skin between his teeth, undoubtedly leaving another hickie that Erica was going to tease Derek about whenever he saw her next. He _was_ still tired but for a few moments at least, he could put that aside. He had all the time in the world to sleep. 

“Okay,” Derek said, tilting his head back, fingers digging into the edge of the counter. “I have a few favorites, if you want to hear them.” 

By the time they made it back to the bedroom, Derek had completely forgotten about being tired. After he shut the door again, he shoved his sweatpants off and pushed Stuart's off as well, groaning as Stuart's long fingers ran over his cock. Before they could even begin to make their way to the bed, the room lit up as Stiles flicked on Derek's bedside lamp. 

“Did he wake you up just to have sex?” he asked, rubbing a hand over his bleary eyes. “'Cause he does that to me all the time.” 

“I was already awake,” Derek said, biting back a groan. “I'm sorry that we woke you up though.”

“Are you kidding? I would have been pissed if you'd let me sleep. Get over here, both of you.”

Whereas the first time around had been hectic, bordering on chaotic, things were much slower the second time around. It took a few moments for them to find positions that worked for everyone but after a few awkward tangles of limbs and misplaced elbows, they found a system that worked. Derek was on his hands and knees, hovering over Stiles, who was leaning up and pressing slow, deep kisses against Derek's mouth. Behind him, Stuart used his long, clever fingers to work him open slowly and thoroughly, while his other hand stayed splayed on the small of Derek's back. 

It had been a long time since Derek had been comfortable enough to let someone do this to him and even though he'd never mentioned that to either of the twins, he had a feeling they just knew. By the time Stuart finally pushed into him with a choked-off moan, Derek felt like he was going to snap. Thankfully, the stretch was easy enough to bear and he groaned, his forehead braced against Stiles', fingers digging into the mattress. 

“Yeah,” Stiles sighed against his mouth, sliding his hand between them and wrapping his hand around Derek's cock. “Yeah, we've got you Der.” 

Derek was pretty sure that Stiles had no idea how true his words were. Both of them had him, completely and utterly, in every possible way.

It was, without a doubt, the most drawn out bout of sex he'd ever had. By the time he came, hips pushing both back against Stuart and forward into Stiles' hand, he didn't have a single coherent thought in his head. The orgasm took what little energy he had left and although he couldn't help but feel a tinge of guilt for not helping either of the twins along, he could barely keep himself from dropping his full weight onto Stiles. Attempting to balance himself on one arm so that he could wrap his hand around Stiles' cock simply wasn't an option. Thankfully, the twins weren't far behind; a few moments later, Stuart's hips stuttered to a stop as he groaned loudly. Stiles was soon after, gasping _kurwa_ against Derek's mouth before he came against both of their stomachs. 

As soon as Stuart pulled out, Derek rolled onto his back, one arm dangling over the edge of the bed. His earlier shower had apparently been for nothing. He was covered in sweat again, there was lube drying on the inside of his thighs and his stomach was a complete write-off. His exhaustion had also come back in full force and just leaving his eyes open was difficult. Gross as he felt, there was no way that he could find the energy to get up and have another shower. Thankfully, his fingers brushed over the sheets that they'd kicked off the bed earlier and although it certainly wasn't the best option in the world, it was the closest. 

Still, he _definitely_ had to do laundry as soon as possible. 

“Dude,” Stiles said beside him as Derek cleaned off both of their stomachs, “I just came _three times_ in one night. This is like Christmas.” 

“You only came once this Christmas,” Stuart said, throwing the condom out and opening Derek's window as well. “And I can't really remember it. Too much booze.” 

“Alright, so this is _better_ than Christmas.”

“Way better.” Stuart flicked the lamp off and second later, the bed dipped under his weight. “And I'd love to make it even better but I need at least six hours of sleep before I can even think about sex again.” 

“Amen to that,” Derek muttered. He didn't even know if six hours was going to be enough, frankly; his stamina was good, but it wasn't _that_ good. Now that the light was off, there was nothing keeping him awake. 

Well, except for Stiles. 

“Hey,” he murmured and when Derek turned his head, Stiles was so close that their noses bumped together. Stiles huffed out a laugh and did it again and Derek was pretty sure that he was far too old for his stomach to be swooping from such a simple action. 

“I'm glad you're here,” Stiles continued. “Just... yeah. I'm just really glad you're here, with both of us.” He pressed another kiss against Derek's mouth, so light that it was more like a brush than anything.

“Wouldn't want to be anywhere else,” Derek replied, meaning it with everything he had. They were the last words said by any of them that night. The last thing Derek remembered was Stiles flinging an arm and leg over him and pressing another, slightly harder kiss, against his shoulder. 

Even if the way Stiles was draped over him kind of reminded him of an octopus, Derek didn't possess the energy or (the desire) to care.

&. 

When Derek woke up, the sun was streaming through the curtains; not the dim light of early morning, but the bright glow of afternoon. There was a bit of a kink in his neck from sleeping without a pillow and, unsurprisingly, he felt like he needed a shower as soon as possible. The only problem was that, based on what he could hear through the walls, there was already someone in the shower and they were singing loudly and off-key. 

“Dzień dobry.” When Derek rolled over, Stuart was sitting on the other side of the bed, fully dressed in his clothes from the previous night, a few small hickies peeking above his collar. He was texting with one hand and holding a mug of coffee in the other. “That means good morning, by the way.” 

“Hej,” Derek sighed, sitting up as well and dragging one hand down his face. He really needed to shave at some point and his eyes were a little sore from sleeping with his contacts in. Stuart finished whatever he was doing on his phone and swapped out his cell for another mug of coffee from the bedside table, which he practically shoved into Derek's hands. 

“It's just black. You're out of milk, by the way.”

“Thanks. Is that Stiles singing?”

“Yeah, he's done that since high school. He knows he's bad, he just doesn't care," Stuart said with a shrug, which he followed up with a massive sip of coffee. Just inhaling the scent was enough to make Derek feel a little more awake.

“What time is it?” he asked. 

“Just after twelve. We missed our first class but we've got another one this afternoon that we'll be able to make it to if Stiles gets out of the shower sometime during the next century.” 

“I'm supposed to be in class right now,” Derek said. “But at least I don't have to work tonight.” 

“I'm sorry that we made you miss class,” Stuart said as Stiles' singing came to a halt. Derek made sure that his coffee cup was in a safe place before he leaned over and kissed Stuart. When Derek pulled away, Stuart's lips were quirked up into a soft smile that was nearly the antithesis of the smirk he wielded like a weapon. 

“Don't worry about it. This was worth it,” Derek said. Yeah, missing class because of the twins wasn't a behavior he planned on making into a habit but in this case, he could definitely make an exception. 

“It _definitely_ was.” Stuart took another sip of his coffee and when he pulled away, he was chewing on his lip slightly, like there was something he wanted to say. 

“Are you alright?” Derek asked and Stuart nodded, licking at where he'd been chewing. 

“Yeah. I'm just surprised. I didn't expect this to work so well. But... well, I think Stiles was right. It's you. You just _work_ with us.” He shook his head and drained his cup, precariously balancing it on a stack of books. “I don't know what I'm saying. I'm just glad.” 

“Me too.” At that moment, the door swung open and Stiles came in, toweling at his hair. He was wearing jeans but no shirt and there were still water droplets trailing down his chest. Even though he was still tired, Derek was struck with the sudden urge to lick them off. 

“Can I borrow a shirt?” Stiles asked, the words muffled as he shoved his face into the towel. “Somehow, mine got come on it.” 

“Yeah, that was probably me,” Stuart said, shrugging when Stiles glared at him and muttered something that sounded like a Polish curse word. "I'm sure you'll get over it."

“Go ahead,” Derek said before the twins could get into any kind of an argument. Stiles fished one of his henleys out of his dresser and although it was definitely too big for him, Derek couldn't help but find the sight attractive. 

Once they were both dressed, Stiles and Stuart didn't stick around for long, since they had to stop by their apartment before their two thirty class. Thankfully, at some point, they had gathered up all the clothes from the hallway and tossed them into the hamper in his bedroom, which Derek definitely appreciated. Before they left, Stiles stopped and drained the last bit of coffee they'd made earlier and when Derek leaned in to kiss him, the taste was nearly overwhelming.

“So, what are you doing Saturday?” Stiles asked when he'd pulled away, his hands threatening to dip underneath the boxers Derek had pulled on once he'd gotten out of bed. 

“I work until eight, but that's it.” 

“Good,” Stuart said, pressing himself against Derek's back long enough to leave a trail of kisses along the underside of his jaw. “You can help us push our beds together.” When Derek turned around, Stuart winked at him before he grabbed the front of Stiles' hoodie, tugging him towards the door. 

“Sounds like a date,” Derek said, unable to stop himself from smiling when Stiles tripped in an attempt to put his shoes on. 

“You're damn right it does,” Stiles replied, shooting back a lopsided grin before Stuart successfully managed to get him out into the corridor. As soon as Stuart pulled the door shut, the difference in the apartment's atmosphere became apparent. Without the twins, everything was too quiet and Derek felt like there was too much space. He'd gotten so used to having at least one of them pressed against him that being alone again felt strange. 

He had just decided to grab a quick shower when he heard a chime coming from the hallway. His jacket was still sitting on the floor and as the chime sounded again, he realized that he hadn't checked his phone since the previous night. When he fished it out of the pocket, the battery was nearly drained. He also had seven new texts. The two that he'd heard were both from Erica and the other five were from Isaac, who had apparently managed to fix whatever had been wrong with his phone. Before Derek could answer Erica's inquiry about whether she was still sexiled, he noticed the time stamp on Isaac's message and he groaned, face flushing with embarrassment. 

He was _never_ going to live this down. 

**Isaac, 8:45PM:** derek did you get new shoes?

 **Isaac, 8:46PM:** why are there clothes all over the hallway?

 **Isaac, 8:46PM:** … oh my god you're having a threesome aren't you? 

**Isaac, 8:47PM:** holy crap dude, congrats! I'll see you tomorrow 

**Isaac, 9:10PM:** by the way, I never knew Polish sounded that cool

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, a big thanks to wenyavie for helping with the translations! (:  
> index of terms used in this chapter: 
> 
> Nie mówiłem poważnie = that wasn't serious.  
> Powiedz mu = tell me.  
> Doskonale = perfect.  
> Dobrze, tak dobrze = good, so good.  
> Teraz = now.  
> Chodź tutaj = come here.  
> Jesteś taki niecierpliwy = you're so impatient.  
> Przestań = stop.  
> Dziękuję = thanks.  
> Kurwa = fuck.  
> Dzień dobry = good morning.  
> Hej = hey.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when I originally started this story, it was meant to be a quick five chapters, full of smut. that was it. I'm still not sure how it blossomed into this, but I've had a blast writing it and I hope you lovely readers have enjoyed it. thank you so much for all of your feedback; it means the world to me. (:

For once, the Hale house was almost completely quiet. 

Derek wasn't actually sure what time it was, but it was definitely later than midnight. It'd been around that time when he'd gotten his last glimpse at a clock, as the festivities for his mother's fiftieth birthday ended and the guests started to leave. While Derek understood that fifty was a milestone age, he really didn't know why they couldn't have just celebrated with a quick family dinner. It certainly would have been cheaper and less stressful for all involved. 

If it weren't for the fact that both Stiles and Stuart had accompanied him, Derek believed that he would have ended up drinking himself into a stupor. It would have been like Christmas all over again. 

It hadn't been his idea for the twins to come along. Truthfully, he hadn't even thought about asking them. For starters, the party was on the last weekend of March, which meant that finals were right around the corner and Derek didn't think that tearing the twins away from studying was such a great idea. There was also the more obvious issue; it was one thing to invite Stiles along, since Derek's whole family knew that they were dating, but only his siblings knew about Stuart. That wasn't a conversation he wanted to have with his parents at any point in the near future (possibly ever, if he was being completely honest). 

But, as had happened so many times when he was a kid, Laura made the decision for him. 

“I'm at Mom and Dad's right now, they want to know if Stiles is a vegetarian,” she said out of the blue one day and although Derek hadn't really been giving her his full attention, that sentence quickly changed things.

“What?” 

“Your boyfriend, Derek. Is he a vegetarian?” 

“No,” Derek said. “Why's it matter? He isn't coming.” 

“Of course he's coming. Mom said that unless he's deathly afraid of meeting us or he's too busy, he's supposed to come with you. Did you even ask him?” 

“No-”

“Well, ask him. Mom and Dad want to meet him, and so do I. Actually, hold on a second.” There was a thud as Laura dropped the phone and although he couldn't make out any specific words, he could still hear her shouting in the background, presumably at their mother. After a few long moments (during which Derek seriously considered hanging up), Laura came back on the line and he just knew that whatever she was about to say was not going to be good. 

“Mom said that we still have one guest room to spare, so Stuart's welcome to come too.” 

“ _No_ ,” Derek said again. “That's not happening. What if one of you says something about-”

“About the fact you're dating both of them?” Laura interrupted and Derek couldn't help but groan. He _really_ hoped that his mother hadn't heard that. “Seriously Derek, you need to trust us more. None of us are going to say anything. I'm not going to force you to bring the twins but you should still ask them. Can you at least do that?”

“Will you leave me alone if I say yes?” 

“Only if you're not lying when you say it.” Derek rolled his eyes and rubbed a hand down his face. He knew this was just asking for trouble but he _also_ knew that if he didn't ask the twins, Laura was liable to show up and ask them herself. 

“Fine. I'll ask them, but they're probably going to say no.” 

Surprisingly, despite the fact that Derek gave them only a few days notice, the answer was a yes. Even more surprising was the fact that it was a yes from _both_ of them. Derek had been almost certain that the event wasn't going to appeal to Stuart and frankly, he wouldn't have blamed him for declining the invitation. Instead, after a few moments of silence, he simply nodded, looking up from the textbook in his lap. 

“Tak. Sure.” 

“You're sure?” Derek asked. There was no harm in double checking, which was an attitude they'd all adopted over the past few months. Before he spoke again, he looked around, just to make sure that there was no one else within earshot. “If you don't want to, either of you, it's fine. My family's a little intimidating sometimes and we'd have to be careful. Really careful.” 

“Derek, just wait until you meet our babcia and dziadek,” Stiles said. “ _They're_ intimidating. 'sides, we got used to your angry brooding. How scary can the rest of your family be?”

“I'm _not_ broody,” is what Derek meant to say but before he could get out more than the first syllable, Stiles leaned over and pressed a hard kiss against his mouth. 

“Yeah, I know, you're not broody, whatever makes you sleep at night.” After Stiles fell back into his chair, muttering something about what clothes he needed to bring, Derek turned back to Stuart, who was looking at his textbook again. 

“Stuart, you're sure?” 

“Yeah. I'll just be bored if I stay here,” he said. “I'll be on my best behavior, until everyone else goes to bed.” He threw a wink at Derek before he went back to the book again and Derek couldn't help but breathe a sign of relief. He still wasn't entirely sure if the whole thing was a good idea but, so long as everyone kept quiet and remained conscious of their surroundings, he had a feeling that it could work. 

Thankfully, his feelings turned out to be completely correct. 

They had arrived just as the party was getting into full swing and before Derek could even attempt to find his mother, Laura had popped up, shoving her way through people with a ridiculous grin on her face. Strangely enough, it was even more terrifying than the frightening glares she liked to throw around.

“It's nice to _finally_ meet you two!” she said before she leaned in and lowered her voice. “I've only been listening to him pine after you for six months.” 

“Laura, fuck off,” Derek groaned, trying (and failing) to convince himself to not blush. 

“Seven, actually, if I remember right,” Stuart said and when Derek glared at him, he just got a smirk back in return. “It's nice to meet you too, Laura. Derek's told us a lot about you.” 

“He mostly told us good stuff,” Stiles blurted out and at the very least, Derek didn't feel so bad about blushing, because Stiles was definitely doing the same. He squeezed Stiles' hand tightly just as Laura rolled her eyes and patted Stiles' cheek, grin growing even wider. 

“You guys don't have to be so nervous,” she said, quickly glancing back over her shoulder. “Your secret is safe with me. And Erica. And Isaac. And Cora too, but she's not here. We aren't going to let anything slip. Try to have fun but fair warning, Mom likes hugging people a lot.” With that, she disappeared back into the crowd of people, most of whom Derek only vaguely recognized. The number of people his mother was close with seemed to grow every time he came home. 

They had just reached the bottom of the stairs when Derek heard his mother call his name and after that, the night was a whirlwind of introducing the twins to his relatives and trying to rein his affections in. He'd gotten so used to being able to touch both of the twins that on a number of occasions, he found himself with his hand already raised to brush along Stuart's waist or the back of his neck. Thankfully, he managed to catch himself every time but, based on the way he could feel Stuart's eyes boring into him and the way he'd caught the twins staring at each other, he had a feeling that he wasn't the only one that was having a hard time practicing restraint. 

Thankfully, the night went by fairly quickly and soon enough, his family had headed upstairs to their bedrooms. Derek needed a few moments to decompress and unwind from the hectic night, from being strung tight as a wire the whole time. The library had always been the best place for that so it was there that he went instead of upstairs. His parents had apparently bought a new couch while he was gone and he had to admit, it was much comfier than the last one they'd had. His legs were propped up on one of the numerous footstools dotting the room and both of his hands were occupied. One was holding a glass of scotch and the other was in his lap, along with Stiles' head. Almost as soon as they'd entered the room, Stiles had discovered the shelf of cheesy sci-fi novels and he was making good progress through one of those, flipping the yellowed pages a little rougher than necessary. His legs were stretched across Stuart's lap and Stuart was using them as a rest for one of his textbooks, which he occasionally jotted an note down in. 

Even though the possibility of getting caught was still very real, for the most part, Derek felt relaxed. Being around the twins (usually) made him feel that way, especially since they had decided to forgo keeping secrets and officially set out some ground rules and boundaries. Although it had already been established that they didn't have to worry about switching off for dates, they easily came to a conclusion about sex. Simply enough, not all three of them had to be involved at the same time. If one of them was busy or tired or simply didn't feel like it, it was more than okay for the other two to sleep together, without anyone feeling jealous. 

That rule had worked out perfectly. Sure, there _were_ nights where Derek was a bit bummed that he had to stay home or go to work instead of being with the twins, but in the end, it all evened out. After all, there were also nights where Stuart was in a bad mood and working on an assignment and on those nights, Derek was more than happy to be with Stiles. The same went for the nights where Stiles was having an all-night study session (or video game marathon) at his friend's house; on those occasions, Derek was more than fine to meet up with Stuart, without worrying about how Stiles would react. 

Of course, much as Derek liked both of the twins separately, he still looked forward to the nights where they could all be involved, where they could end the night tangled together, exhausted and completely fucked out.

The other rules they'd established were important as well. They had to be honest with each other (and god, had Derek been relieved to have that rule said aloud) and if there were any problems, they couldn't just let them simmer. As for how they acted around other people, they'd all decided that flirting was totally okay. Although he didn't have much of an interest in doing so, Derek was pretty sure that telling the twins not to flirt would have been like telling them not to breathe. Besides, it was harmless. 

Well, it was _mostly_ harmless.

In the months that had passed since they had finally fallen together, there had only been one instance where one of them had stepped over the line and broken a rule. Looking back, it seemed trivial but at the time, Derek had actually been afraid that everything they'd worked for was going to implode. 

It'd been near the end of February. Stiles and Stuart had managed to sleep through one of their morning classes and since it was a film course that Derek had never taken, he couldn't be any help. Stuart had promised to get the notes from somebody but what he neglected to mention was that his method of getting notes involved sending someone a shirtless picture. The only reason Derek became aware of that method was because he was at the twin's apartment when Stiles walked in on Stuart doing just that. He'd been picking out a DVD for them to watch (or, more realistically, to make out to). Stiles had gone to change out of his jeans and almost as soon as he opened the bedroom door, the apartment erupted with yelling. Derek could only understand the occasional word but after a few moments of loud, rapid fire Polish, Stiles stormed out of the bedroom, slamming the door so hard that it rattled the pictures hanging on the walls. 

“Stiles-” 

“Go fuck yourself!” Stiles' face was flushed beet red as he collapsed back on the sofa, slumping against the cushions and muttering a steady stream of curse words in both of his languages. Derek waited until he had fallen silent before he asked what had happened and when Stiles told him, he had to resist cursing as well. Stuart was a natural born flirt, there was no doubt about it, but there was a difference between a few winks and a shirtless picture. At the very least, he could have _asked_ them before he sent it. 

Sure, Derek knew that there was definitely worse things Stuart could have done to violate their trust; hell, only a few months previous, they'd all been doing worse things than that. But that wasn't exactly the point. The delicate balance of trust they'd established had still been shaken and that was something that had to be dealt with.

But, much as he wanted to get up and go talk to Stuart about it, Derek knew that it was best if they all waited for a bit before even trying to broach the topic again. He didn't want to get Stiles riled up again and if they started yelling in Polish, there really wasn't much he could do to help or add to the conversation. So instead, he popped in the first DVD he saw before joining Stiles on the couch. He could hear footsteps coming from the bedroom and based on how they just seemed to keep going, he had a feeling that Stuart was pacing. 

“Are you going to be okay?” he asked Stiles. 

“I don't want to talk about it yet,” he muttered, shooting a vicious glare at the bedroom door. Once the movie got started, he slid across the couch so that he was pressed against Derek's side. The movie wasn't very interesting and after awhile, Derek's attention started wandering as he grew tired. The last thing he remembered was kissing Stiles' temple and hearing Stiles murmur something that he couldn't understand. 

When he woke up again, the room was dark and there was someone in his lap. At first, he thought it was Stiles but then he felt the hard line of a pair of glasses pressing into his forehead and he immediately tensed up. Stuart's hands were resting on his neck and Derek tried to resist reaching up and moving them away. 

“What?” he asked instead, trying to keep most of the angry tone out of his voice. Beside him, he felt Stiles awake with a jolt and a yawn. After a second or so, he seemed to figure out what was going on and he shifted so that his knees were pressed into Derek's thigh. 

“What the hell do you want?” Stiles asked, voice still groggy from sleep.

“Look, przepraszam,” Stuart sighed. One of his hands left Derek's neck and there was a brief rustle of fabric, which Derek assumed was Stuart dropping his hand onto Stiles' shoulder. “I am. I shouldn't have done that.” 

“You're damn right you shouldn't have,” Stiles snapped. “Jesteś dupkiem.”

“I know. I'm sorry,” Stuart said again, sliding his hand up Derek's neck and into his hair. Derek sighed and let one hand drop to Stuart's waist while the other settled on Stiles' hip. While the conversation had been shorter than he expected, he supposed that there was really only so much that they could say. Stuart seemed to know that he'd fucked up; there was no point in dissecting his actions down to the most minute detail. That didn't mean that Derek planned on forgiving him immediately, but he didn't want to fight and he had a feeling that despite his bluster, Stiles didn't really want to either. 

“Don't do it again. Proszę,” Derek said firmly. “Promise us you won't do it again.” 

“I won't,” Stuart said, so close that Derek could feel their lips brushing together with every word. “I promise. It's not going to happen again.” 

And it hadn't. In time, the slight trust issues that had formed between them resolved themselves and now, things were great, as great as Derek thought they could possibly be. There was no awkwardness when they were together, no communication issues and, finally, as far as Derek knew, there were no more damn lies. 

“Can I have some of that?” Stiles' voice jolted Derek out of his reverie and when he looked down, Stiles had dropped his book onto the floor and was looking up at him through his long eyelashes. 

“Some of this?” Derek asked, swirling the inch or so of scotch that was left in his glass. “Sure, I guess.” 

“You're not going to like it,” Stuart said from the other end of the couch, looking up with an amused smirk already sitting on his mouth. Stiles just flipped him off and rolled onto his stomach before he sat up and plucked the glass from Derek's fingertips. He only took a small sip but it was enough to make him splutter and practically shove the glass back into Derek's hand. 

“Oh God, that is disgusting,” he coughed, wiping the back of his mouth with his hand. Derek rolled his eyes and finished the drink off himself.

“Told you,” Stuart said smugly. “It's my job to know what you like to swallow.” After all the time he'd spent with them, Derek knew that he should have been used to statements like that, but they still made his jaw drop. Stiles reacted much the same way; he turned and stared at his brother, who was simply sitting there with a raised eyebrow, textbook still open in his lap. 

Seconds later, it fell to the floor with a thud as Stiles lunged forward, practically tackling Stuart back against the armrest of the couch as he kissed him. Stuart reacted immediately, swinging his legs up onto the sofa until his knees were bracketed around Stiles' waist. In the shuffle, Stiles' feet ended up in Derek's lap and Derek moved so that he was kneeling behind the twins, able to run his hands up their legs. When Stiles pulled away from Stuart, he sat back on his knees, shifting backwards until he was pressed against Derek's chest. 

“I've been waiting for someone to do that for an hour,” Stuart said, sitting up as well and wrapping his arms around Stiles' waist. 

“Why didn't _you_ just do something?” Stiles asked, trailing off into a moan as Stuart leaned in and nipped at his earlobe, hands sliding into the back pockets of Stiles' jeans. 

“Because I did something _last_ time. This is okay though, right?” Stuart asked, flicking his eyes over to Derek even as he began sucking a bruise into the base of Stiles' neck. 

“Yeah,” Derek said, groaning as Stiles pushed back against him. Maneuvering around Stuart's arms, Derek slid his hand underneath Stiles' shirts until it was resting on his bare stomach, brushing over the patch of hair that led into his jeans. Stiles moaned again and turned his head, meeting Derek halfway for a kiss. Derek was hardly aware that his hand was drifting lower until he realized that he could feel coarse denim instead of soft skin against his palm. More importantly, however, was that he could feel Stiles' dick, hard and pressing up against his zipper. When he moved his hand forward slightly, he realized that he could feel Stuart too. 

“We should go upstairs,” he said as he pulled away from Stiles' mouth, groaning as Stiles reached back and tangled his fingers into Derek's hair. Upstairs may have been closer to his family (which meant they would have to be quieter) but the couch wasn't exactly big enough for sex and it was way more likely that someone was going to barge into the library at any moment, as opposed to his locked bedroom. 

“Yeah, to a bed,” Stiles panted, breaking off into another groan as Stuart continued to press kisses up along the long line of his neck. The next time he made a noise, Derek murmured _shush_ against Stiles' jaw but that only made him moan louder and drop his head back against Derek's shoulder. 

“You're gonna have to find a way to shut me up,” Stiles said with a grin. Stuart pulled away from the other side of Stiles' neck, licking his lips. Underneath his glasses, his pupils were blown wide. 

“I'm sure we can think of something,” he murmured, sliding off the couch and yanking Stiles to his feet. “Right, Derek?”

“Yeah, I've got some ideas,” Derek said. He got to his feet and almost immediately had to bite back a groan as Stiles stepped forward and pressed his palm against Derek's dick through his pants.

“I really hope one of those ideas includes _that_ ,” he said quietly, his eyes dark and lips slack. That image was almost enough to make Derek pull them both to the floor, regardless of the chance of getting caught. But he really didn't want carpet burn on his knees (or any other part of him, really), so he was glad when Stuart grabbed his wrist and started pulling both him and Stiles towards the door. 

Derek had no idea how much time passed between the time they finally got to his bedroom and the time they collapsed against the mattress, tangled together in a heap of warm, tired limbs. Derek's mouth hurt from biting back so many curses and groans and he was pretty sure there was a literal trail of hickies down his chest, put there by both of the twins working together. There was a dried smear of blood on Stuart's lower lip, presumably from trying to stay quiet as well. Stiles' lips, on the other hand, were just swollen and red and stretched into a grin that was half buried into one of Derek's pillows. 

“Fuck,” he sighed contently, throwing one of his arms over Stuart's stomach. “I'm never gonna get tired of that.”

“Me neither,” Stuart said. One of his arms was thrown over his eyes while the other was laying on Derek's chest at an awkward angle that really didn't look comfortable. Yet Stuart made no attempt to move and for that, Derek couldn't blame him. He was nearly falling off the bed (which was a size smaller than the one he had at the apartment) but he just couldn't be bothered to shift over. Part of it was due to the fact that he was exhausted; as always, the twins had succeeded in thoroughly wearing him out. Mainly though, it was because he was just too blissful. Sure, the circumstances weren't ideal (the bed had been pretty squeaky, plus Isaac's room was on the other side of the wall, which was probably going to make for an awkward conversation in the morning) but even those circumstances didn't detract from how damn happy he was. 

“You don't have to sleep in the guest room,” Derek said quietly, reaching down and tangling his fingers together with Stuart's. “It'll be a tight fit, but you can stay here if you want.” 

“Good. I hate sleeping alone,” Stuart said, dropping his other arm from his eyes and sliding it around Stiles' shoulders, pulling them even closer together. It was a remarkably open thing for him to say and Derek had a feeling that if it weren't for the fact they were still coming out of post-orgasm haze, Stuart wouldn't have said it at all.

Or maybe it was just another example of how well things were working, how their policy of openness was actually succeeding. Either way, Derek was really too tired to give it much thought. 

“Me too,” Stiles added, reaching over further so that his fingers were just skimming against Derek's hip. “'M comfy. We can move later, but this is good for now.” Derek reached over to flick off the lamp before he rolled onto his side and draped his arm over Stuart's waist, just above Stiles'. Stuart's fingers came up and began to run through his hair slowly, smoothing out the spots that had been tugged into unruly spikes. Between the repetitive motion of Stuart's fingers and the sound of the twin's breathing, Derek knew that falling asleep wasn't going to be a problem. 

Although he was pretty sure that Stiles had just been referring to their sleeping positions when he'd said _this is good for now_ , he'd been totally right. In fact, he genuinely believed that what he had beside him went beyond merely being good. Even despite their flaws, their fucked up history and the secrecy that their relationship would always necessitate, he really believed that what he had with the twins was pretty close to perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd really like to write a time stamp fic for this at some point in the future, but I'm not sure when that will be! 
> 
> Index of terms used in this chapter:   
> Tak = yes.  
> Babcia and dziadek = grandma and gramdpa.  
> Przepraszam = I'm sorry.  
> Jesteś dupkiem = you're an asshole.  
> Proszę = please.
> 
> and, as always, I can be found on [tumblr.](http://banshee-cheekbones.tumblr.com/) :)


End file.
